The Hunters and The Witch
by borderfame-sabrestar
Summary: Dean hates witches and Sam isn't a big fan either. So when they catch a witch unlike any other they've seen, and realise they need her help, what will happen? Set post-hogwarts and season 2 of SPN.
1. Chapter 1

Hello children :) welcome to my SPN/HP crossover. I've been working on this idea for a while and I've finally gotten around to publishing it. So here you go, chapter one is here. Enjoy! Also, each chapter will have a song from my writing playlist attatched to it. You can ignore that altogether or check out the music, do what you will. This chapter features lyrics from Josh Pyke's 'No-one Wants a Lover'.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One - No-One Wants A Lover Like That<br>**

_So I held my hands out to the city, turns out the city she was holding me back. And no-one wants a lover, no-one wants a lover like that…_

* * *

><p>There wasn't much in the small studio apartment. The walls had very light blue paisley wallpaper and the window sills were painted white. It was all very pretty and clean. The lights and lamps were all matching and the bed in the corner had a dark blue bedspread. There were a lot of mirrors in the apartment and it made it feel bigger.<p>

The walls and furniture were very neat and tidy. However the shelves were loaded with books, all the books you could imagine. Dusty old books, dog-eared page books, bulky leather bound books, nice shiny hardback books. And on another shelf there were various little ornaments, curious looking objects and souvenirs.

The desk was quite clean, which was surprising. It usually wasn't so tidy. But Hermione had cleaned up the place for Gabrielle Delacour, who was house sitting for her, and while she was cleaning the kitchen table and bench she figured she might as well clean the desk, too.

She sighed softly, listening numbly to the bustling sounds of nearby London. It was quite late morning so it would be very busy. Cars and pedestrians and buses and the like. Hermione glanced at her timepiece, and sighed again upon seeing she still had a good five minutes before she really had to leave. She wanted to leave to the ministry as soon as she could, but she didn't want to appear desperate. It's not like she hadn't been desperate enough to get the job in the first place.

Harry hadn't been very happy about her taking the job. It was dangerous, even for a witch as powerful as Hermione.

"You won't have any back up!" he had said, frustrated at her for being reckless. "What if you're in danger, then what? Who will save you?"

"Harry, if more than one Auror goes, the Death Eaters will know they're being chased," Ginny had said calmly, trying to soothe her husband. "Besides, Hermione is more than capable of looking after herself."

Hermione was glad she had Ginny to stick up for her. Otherwise she'd never get anything done.

The problem Harry had with the job was not so much that it concerned Death Eaters. He knew as well as anybody that Hermione could handle a rogue witch or wizard easily. No, his beef was with the fact that Hermione was leaving to America.

It did seem a little radical, Hermione pondered quietly. But it would be very interesting. Maybe if she liked it, she could stay. Be an ambassador for the Ministry in the United States. Now that sounded nice.

A whole new continent should do just fine.

It was only after she let the sad smile creep onto her lips that Hermione realised she had lost track of time and now she was one minute late for being five minutes early, upon which she quickly disapparated to the Ministry.

* * *

><p><em>When you know all the streets like the lines on your face, you may discover that you feel you have nothing to say, and no-one wants a lover like that.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

The song for this chapter is 'Smoke and Mirrors' by the Audition. It's a great song. Hope you like this chapter :D please read and review.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two - Smoke and Mirrors<br>**

_What you think you can take back are the things that are going to haunt you…_

* * *

><p>Sam had tried his very best to find them a bar that would be quiet, a bar full of unshaven and unfit middle aged men who Dean would not try to hit on. And yet as soon as they had entered the bar, even though Sam had specifically told Dean they were going to talk over the hunt information over dinner, his brother had already begun to scout for ladies. He was so predictable.<p>

Sam had already pulled on his brother's jacket, directing them over to an empty table, trying to sit Dean down as fast as he could. "Come on, we've gotta debrief," he said. "You look at the menu while I go through this stuff."

Sam had only just pulled the fairly thin file of information from his pack when Dean said, "I'm gonna get myself a drink. You want one Sammy?"

"Uh, no, I'm alright thanks…" Sam looked up and saw that familiar expression on his brother's face, the one he wore when he was checking out a girl. Eyes slightly narrowed, a small tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth, looking generally dazed. Sam looked over his shoulder to where his brother was staring, and he saw a girl.

"Wait, Dean, don't –" Sam began, but his brother had already stood and was heading over to the bar, where the girl was sitting with a glass of wine. Sam sighed, and turned back around. There was no way he was going to get distracted by some girl, or distracted by Dean being distracted by some girl. Or – something.

Sam clenched his teeth. Dean was a juvenile. How he ever operated without his little brother to help him was a total mystery.

* * *

><p>Dean knew that Sam had chosen a dingy old bar because it would be devoid of pretty girls, so they could get down to work straight away. Fortunately for Dean, Sam's plan had gone a little haywire because there was a gorgeous girl was sitting down at the bar.<p>

'Girl' was a fairly loose term. She was young, in her twenties, and she was about five-five or five-six, with a slender figure. She wore a pair of black denim jeans which hugged her slight curves, black ankle-boots with a slight heel, a bold-striped black and white shirt and a royal blue blazer. Her wave-infused, golden-brown hair was tied back in a loose bun, strands falling across her heart-shaped face, and as Dean stepped up to the bar to order a beer he glanced sideways at her, and he could see the perfect shape of her nose, the rosy pink of her lips, smooth porcelain skin and amber brown eyes framed by dark eyelashes. She was sitting at the bar with a small glass of white wine, reading through a small notebook, flicking the pages as she read through them swiftly.

After a moment, she realised that he was watching her, and she glanced up at Dean. He instantly gave her his most charming smile, and said, "Hi there." Her face was alarmingly symmetrical. She was _very _pretty.

"Hello," she said, with a small smile in return.

Dean casually leaned over and said, "Tell me, how can a pretty girl like you end up in a run-down bar like this?"

She shrugged. "It's the closest to my motel." Dean noted the accent – there was no way she was even the slightest bit American. She was a Brit, that much was certain.

"Fair enough," he nodded. "I'm Dean, by the way. Dean O'Connell."

He held out his hand and gently shook hers, as she replied, "Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Hermione Singleton."

Dean leaned against the counter as he talked with her. "So I take it you're from out of town, Hermione?"

"How did you ever guess?" she joked. "Yes, I am. I'm a journalist, from England. Freelancing my way across the States."

"Journalism, hey?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "That sounds riveting."

"It's brilliant. I get paid to talk to people and take notes." She placed her notepad into the pocket of her blazer. "How about you, what do you do?"

"Me?" Dean repeated. "Oh, nothing at the moment. My brother and I are on a road trip, heading across to California."

"You'll love California. I was there a few weeks ago, I had the most amazing time…"

* * *

><p>Sam was flipping through the notes when he saw something Bobby had scribbled into the margin, and it made him pause for a moment. The note read, 'unusualrandom deaths, no distinct pattern – maybe a human.'

The thought made Sam feel a little unwell. He had seen the map of the deaths, and Bobby was right – there was absolutely no pattern. They had checked everything, the latitude and longitude, the names of towns, the names of people, the ages of people, hair colour, heritage, even god damned festivals going on in every single bloody town in Wyoming and Idaho. If it was random, it might mean that it wasn't something they had dealt with before – or worse, it was a person who had managed to find a way to control a supernatural being. They'd seen that before and it was dangerous. Supernatural beings had patterns – they did awful things, but at least it made sense. People were just screwed up in every which way.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure he was comfortable being out and about while there was such a reckless killer on the loose, and considering it might still be in town, he wasn't prepared to take any chances.

Sam stood up, and he turned to head over towards Dean, and the young woman he was trying to charm. Sam heard the end line of a joke he'd heard a million times before, and she laughed as Dean smiled in a nonchalant way, when he saw Sam wander over.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said, "I'd like you to meet Hermione Singleton, she's a journalist."

Sam gave her a polite smile and shook her hand. She had very nice wrists.

"I was just telling her about our road trip to California," he went on. "She says there's this one bar at Pier 39, in San Francisco, and –"

"That's great, Dean," Sam said, forcing a smile. "Hey, I don't wanna be a buzz kill but we have to pack tonight – and I'm feeling pretty tired."

"Well go on, you can head on back," said Dean. "I'll stay here a while."

Sam glared at him, and Dean stared right back. Dean knew that Sam had something to tell him but he just didn't care and he was staying to annoy him, and it was working because Sam was very annoyed.

At that moment, Hermione was his life-saver. She said, "That's okay, Dean, I was about to head off anyway. I have to pack, I'm driving to Cheyenne before flying out to Denver tomorrow."

"Maybe I can grab your number, just before you go?" Dean said, as she left her seat. "You know, just in case we're in the same town sometime?"

Hermione gave him a warm smile, and she said, "I'm sorry, Dean, I'm here for work. I won't have much time for socialising. But thank you."

Sam watched his brother's face as Hermione walked out of the bar. Dean looked more than a little dismayed, and Sam couldn't help but laugh at him.

"What are you laughing at?" he grumbled, "Come on, get me a god damn pizza and then tell me what's so god damn important."

* * *

><p>"So you think it's a person?" Dean asked through a mouthful of pizza.<p>

"Yeah," Sam replied, as he flicked through the file for the hundredth time. "Bobby picked up on it, and wrote it in – there is no pattern whatsoever to the deaths, apart from the fact it's heading in a general western direction. And the fact that every single one of the murders has been committed by a person with a skull tattoo and a small wooden object – kind of like a stick. So, we know at least it's the same person – but other than that, nothing. The people die in different ways, some have heart attacks or strokes, some are shredded to pieces, some are burnt, the two in Fort Laramie were strangled, and the last victims were here in Cody, and they hung themselves, but neither have a record of illness or depression. They were parents, left two kids behind."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Parents committing suicide? That's unfortunate. What makes Bobby think that those two are related to the trail of deaths?"

"When Ash 'looked up' the police report," Sam said, knowing that the term 'looked up' meant 'hacked into', "It said the two kids claimed there were two men who came into the house, and they sent them to sleep with 'wands', and that they had tattoos of a skull and a snake on the inside of their wrists. A few other witnesses said they saw the same style of tattoo on a few people on Mill Street that night."

"Wands?" Dean repeated, pausing to stare at his brother with raised eyebrows. "Well, that sounds legitimate."

"Don't joke about this, Dean," Sam sighed. "I mean, if these guys are witches or sorcerers, then we have to figure out how to kill them. Or stop whoever is controlling them."

"Cool," said Dean, not paying much attention, "Hey, that Hermione girl said her hotel was closest to the bar. This is the closest motel to that crappy bar. Means she might be here somewhere." He raised his eyebrows, but only got a sigh from his brother.

"Jesus, can you stop thinking about chasing tail for one second?"

"Nope," Dean grinned. "I'm going to go find her. You stay here and do your study, like a good boy."

Dean had to jump out of the room and shut the door before he was hit by the book Sam threw at him.

* * *

><p><em>I'm on the search, two floors high, I see the girl that I've been chasing after. Wishing her eyes would just reach mine, please girl you know exactly who I'm after…<em>


	3. Chapter 3

Hello there readers! I finished another chapter sooner than I thought. This chapter features the song 'Weapon, Enemy, Friend' by Gyroscope. Thanks to everybody who added this to their story alerts, I feel very special :) and thanks for reading!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three - Weapon or a Friend<br>**

_I hope you understand that I am watching you go crazy, like a thunderstorm you wake me…_

* * *

><p>Dean made his way down to the reception where the old guy with a terrible toupee was sitting, watching baseball on the small television. Dean, being annoyingly cheerful, rung the bell even though he was there. The old guy looked up, and stared at Dean blankly. "Yes?"<p>

"Evening," Dean said. "I was wondering if you could tell whether a lady named Hermione is staying here." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, "She left her phone down at Jackie's bar, I've been around to all the other motels within walking distance."

"Leave it with me," the owner said, holding out his dirty palm. "I'll give it to her."

Dean pulled his hand away, holding the phone tightly. "Come on, man," he said, with a smile. "You've seen her, right? Wouldn't take a chance like that away from me now would you?"

The old guy hesitated, looking at Dean carefully, before he nodded his head, and pulled out a small list of rooms and residents, and he muttered, "She's in room 2E. Don't waste the chance."

"I definitely won't," Dean replied. "Thank you."

Dean quickly made his way up to the second floor, where he wandered along the balcony until he came to room 2E. He was about to rap on the door when he heard Hermione's voice, talking on the phone.

He paused, and leaned into the door to listen to what she was saying. Dean didn't mind eavesdropping, and he was keen to learn more about her. What he heard, though, wiped the cheery grin from his face.

"… No, sir, I – yes, I know they have been. I've tried to curse them but I'm outnumbered. I – well, you could always send me some help… What? Are you serious? You want me to go clean up that mess? It's not my fault they killed them so messily, it's not like I told them to hang them. Yes, sir, hung. No, I – fine. … of course! For goodness' sake, Kingsley, what sort of witch do you think I am? I'll go clean it up. It'll be over by tomorrow."

Dean frowned, and he stepped back from the door. Not only was she a witch, but she had something to do with the killings. She was going there tomorrow – where was there? And what was she going to do?

Dean stepped back carefully from the door, and he quickly strode back over to the room to tell Sam what he had heard.

* * *

><p>"A witch?"<p>

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed. "Christ, how many times do I have to repeat myself? She said it herself. And she said she was going to 'clean up' the mess the others had made. She's clearly a part of the group."

"That means they're not travelling as a group," Sam muttered to himself. "That's problematic."

"And it sounded like she was talking to her boss," Dean went on, rattling off everything on his mind. "Talking to the demon in charge. It was like she was having to explain herself – I think he wants them to stay low, and by killing the couple in Cody they've royally screwed everything up. He might know we're onto them!"

"Calm down, Dean. Look, maybe we just catch Hermione. I mean, she knows us, we can try to get into her room and capture her."

"With what?" Dean asked. "Holy water, silver bullets?"

"Well, traditionally they used to burn witches," said Sam. "We could try that. Or we could just, you know, shoot her."

"Shoot her?"

"Yeah," Sam shrugged, "I mean, witches are human."

"She could be in disguise."

"She could, but she could also just be as destructible as you and me." Sam scratched his head. "And besides, where could we burn her? We'd set fire to the whole motel."

"I'm down with that," Dean muttered. "The owner looks like he could use a lifestyle change."

Sam only had to give Dean a look of disapproval for that plan to be scrapped. "Okay," said Dean, "No burning motels. So what should we do?"

"I think one of us should follow her," said Sam. "The other should stay here. So if she runs off when she's out, we can follow her."

Dean nodded. The plan was simply and if they knew anything about hunting, they could get this over and done with.

The next morning, Sam and Dean were ready. They had kept an eye on Hermione all night and she hadn't left the motel, and in that time they had planned out carefully what they were going to do. Dean had set up the walkie-talkies, and as he did he explained what was going to happen.

"I'm going to follow her out to wherever she's going," he said, barely beginning before Sam interrupted.

"Wait, why do I have to stay here?"

Dean gave him an annoyed look. "Because you're useless at following people. You're like the least casual person in the universe. Besides, you're too tall. She'll see you."

Sam looked like he was about to argue, but he shut his mouth. Dean gave him a humourless smile, before going on.

"So, I'm following her. I'll keep you updated on what she's doing. If she leaves town before coming back here, you get in the car and drive to where I'm at, and we chase her down. If she comes back, you get to shoot her, and then – we'll see."

"Because the shots might not kill her," Sam said.

"That's right," Dean nodded. "We may yet have to tie her to a pole and burn her. Either way, we're gonna have some fun."

* * *

><p>The minute Hermione left her motel room, Dean had been on her trail. He had a pistol and a shotgun inside his jacket, and three of his favourite knives strapped to his belt with the radio. Sam had a similar set up but he was waiting in Hermione's motel room, having picked the lock. He was hiding in the bathroom.<p>

"You all good Sam?" Dean asked him through the radio.

It took a moment before he replied. "_Yeah – Dean, she's got absolutely nothing here. There's a purse on the table but there aren't any bags. It's like she doesn't own anything_. _No black magic books, no pentagons or chicken bones, or whatever. None of the usual stuff._"

"That's odd," Dean muttered, before he replied to Sam, "Alright, you hang tight, I'll let you know where she's at."

Dean proceeded to follow Hermione for about fifteen minutes as she walked towards the eastern end of town – having already checked the maps for various locations she could be going to, Dean figured she was headed to the crime scene. The two kids were staying with the next door neighbour.

"Sam," Dean spoke into the radio. "She's headed towards Mill Street."

"_Keep an eye on her_."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

Dean followed her down towards Mill Street, as predicted, and he found it odd that she didn't look over her shoulder once. She looked a few times before crossing the street, but she didn't look nervous at all. Like she wasn't worried about being followed. Dean found it slightly unnerving – that was the sort of thing that really powerful demons did. Didn't bother hiding because they couldn't be harmed. Dean hoped that Sam's theory about witches being shoot-able was right or else he'd be in deep crap.

Dean half expected her to go into the neighbour's house, to the kids, but she didn't. She went straight up to the suicide house, and stood at the door. Dean thought she was about to pick the lock, but then he saw an object in her hand – it looked like a stick. She held it up to the handle, and he saw her say something, and the door clicked open.

He knew she was a witch, but this magic stuff got his skin crawling.

"She's in the suicide house," Dean said into the radio, voice a little quieter as he went up to the house.

"_Doing what?_" Sam's voice crackled back.

"I have to get a little closer, hold on." Dean went up to the house, and he peered into the windows, making sure not to show his face, until he found where she was. In the kitchen, where the two had been found.

He could see her, with that stick out in her hand, and she was moving around the room, muttering some words he couldn't hear, and Dean could _see _the shimmer of a spell being cast. He could see the magic. But he couldn't figure out what she was doing. He had never seen magic like that before. There was no chanting, no chalk circles or diagrams or bones or brains or _nothing_. Not a trace of hoodoo.

Dean didn't know how, or why, but it was like she suddenly sensed his presence. Her head snapped around, and her eyes locked onto his, and then – with a loud crack, she disappeared.

"Shit," Dean yelled. "Sam! Sam, she disappeared!"

"_Disappeared?_"

"Into thin air!" Dean was lost for words. "Poof!"

* * *

><p><em>A weapon or a friend?<em>


	4. Chapter 4

****Wow, hello guys :) thanks for all your amazing feedback and thanks to everyone who put this on their story alerts, that really makes me feel awesome and inspires me to write more :D hope you like it and thanks for reading. **ALSO****, **a graphic has been made (was made a while ago, actually) as a visual companion to this chapter. Check it out here http:/ sabrestar .deviantart .com /art /Split-at-the-Seams-Supernatural-and-HP-crossover-268775403 (just take out the spaces)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four - Silhouettic<br>**

_Silhouette a perfect scene, flavour of the month is not that new to me._

* * *

><p>A second after Dean's exceptional use of descriptive language, Sam heard a snap from inside the motel room, and he heard the sound of hurried footsteps. Not knowing what else to do, he kicked down the door, and held the gun out in front of him. He saw her immediately – she was standing by a small table in the middle of the tiny motel room, and as soon as she saw him, she reached for what looked like a stick, which was sitting on the table.<p>

He knew it wasn't just a stick – it was a wand. Sam moved forward with lightning fast speed, and as soon as the witch had picked up the wand, Sam had hit it from her hand, and it went flying across the room. She looked as though she was about to reach for it, when Sam pointed his shotgun at her.

She must have known what that gesture meant, because she immediately froze.

And now came the part where Sam shot her, killed her dead, and got her out of the room quickly before the blood stained the carpet – and if that didn't work, find a way to restrain her until they could kill her. Dean had told him the plan, and Sam was going to stick to it.

But he hesitated. Sam looked at the witch, watching her wide brown eyes. He could almost see her shaking. Her eyes were darting to the wand on the floor, where he'd hit it from her hand. Now, she was defenceless, and Sam could hear his brother shouting from the radio, attached to Sam's belt, and Dean was asking if she was there.

He pulled the radio from his belt and said to Dean, "She's here."

"S_hoot her!_"

And Sam knew he should. This was why they had come here. She wasn't human and she had been messing around in their business. But the way she looked at him now, like a deer caught in headlights – he was lost. The fierce determination he had seen in her eyes before had gone and he saw she wasn't the sort of evil he had been expecting. She wasn't evil at all.

And he realised he couldn't pull the trigger, not when she looked at him like that.

Sam let his shotgun lower only slightly, but he didn't let it go altogether as he said to her, "Who are you?"

Sam could see the flicker of confusion in the young witch's eyes, and she opened her mouth, and said shakily, "My – my name is Hermione Granger."

"You lied about your name."

"So did you," she retorted, before her eyes flicked back to the gun in his hands. "You're the Winchesters."

"And you are a witch," Sam said bluntly.

Her big brown eyes looked at him warily. "I'm not an evil witch. Not like the ones you're chasing."

"That's yet to be decided," said Sam, as he reached down and picked her wand up off the floor. She flinched as he touched it, as though she thought he was going to break it, but he didn't. He could see the fear in her eyes when he had pointed the gun at her. She wouldn't try anything.

He ignored Dean's incoherent voice crackling through the speaker, asking Sam what was happening, why it was taking so long – saying he'd be there in a second.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, not looking away from her for a moment.

"I'm doing a job."

"What job?" Sam frowned. "You told us at the bar that you were a journalist."

"I'm not, but that's not important," she said, voice tight and desperate. "Please, I'm working for the Ministry –"

"A ministry?"

"The Ministry of Magic," she managed, becoming a little quieter every time Sam's voice became louder. "I work for them."

"I've never heard of them," Sam said, and he tightened his grip on the shotgun. Hermione saw him shift, and she began to panic again.

"Please don't hurt me," she said, voice breaking. "I'm here the same reason you are, to stop the Death Eaters."

Sam watched her, holding her arms out in front of him, as though she were trying to calm him – and then he felt something pulling on the shotgun. His arm jerked forward, pulled by the gun, and he realised what she was doing. She was trying to snatch the gun from his arms – with _magic_.

He growled, and he took a quick step forward, and the witch cried out as he shoved her back against the wall and jabbed the end of the shotgun against her neck, pointing upwards.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't –"

"Shut up!"

Her mouth snapped shut, and he could almost see his reflection in her wide eyes. Sam stared at her, and he said, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you?"

"Because I haven't hurt anybody," she responded, voice slightly strained. "I'm not here to cause trouble, I'm here to do my job."

Sam frowned at her. "Why would you try to take my weapon?"

"You took mine."

Before Sam could say anything, he heard someone storm in. "Sam, what the hell?"

Sam's lip twitched at his brother's cursing. "Dean –"

"No, she should already be at least comatose right now," Dean snapped, and Sam heard him come closer. "What part of 'burn the witch' did you not understand?"

Sam glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, and he then had a thought. "Check her wrist," he said.

"What?"

"Her wrist, Dean, see if she's got the tattoo."

Dean reached forward and snatched Hermione's left arm, wrenching it in a way he knew would hurt her, and pulled the sweater up to her elbow as he inspected the soft skin of her inner arm. Sam glanced down and they both looked at the skin – there was no tattoo, but there was a word which looked like it had been scratched into her arm, and had now scarred.

"Mudblood?" Dean read the word from her pale skin.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at Sam. She hadn't taken her eyes off him, or the shotgun. "You know, I thought that going to another country might help me get away from that term."

"What's a Mudblood?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.

He could see a flash of anger in her eyes. "A witch or wizard born to non-magical parents," she said quietly. "Not a term one usually hears in polite conversation."

Dean glanced at his brother. "Why'd you scratch it into your arm?"

"You think I did that?" she said in an offended tone, turning to glare at Dean, and Sam gave her a sharp prod with the shotgun to tell her to mind her manners.

Sam knew she wasn't going to try the puppy eyes again, not after she had pulled that stunt with his gun. She was still scared, but she wasn't going to do anything stupid. And as far as he could tell, she was totally powerless without that stick.

He was torn. She was a witch, so he was supposed to kill her. But she didn't have the tattoo. And she hadn't tried to kill him, and he'd seen her walking around town and at the bar earlier. If she'd meant to hurt them, she would have done so already. Not to mention she wasn't travelling with the others.

"Sam," Dean said in a steady voice. "Come on. She's a witch, she doesn't belong here."

Hermione was staring at Sam, and she said rather calmly, "Alright. Shoot me. But I'd like to see how you handle the Death Eaters without my help. Your guns are useless against them."

"Death Eaters?" Dean repeated.

"The ones you've been hunting," Hermione said, her eyes remaining on Sam's, watching him, watching the shotgun. "They're what's left of a clan of dark witches and wizards from Europe. I'm tracking them for the Ministry – or I was, until you two got in the way."

Sam looked at his brother, and he said, "I think we should take her with us."

"What?" Dean said in pure disbelief. "You're not buying this, are you? We've killed witches before, without one on our side."

"Not witches like these," Sam muttered. "They're not the sort we can deal with, it's not black magic stuff. They're unpredictable."

Dean glared at his little brother. "Sam, if you don't kill her, I will. You _know_ how much I hate witches."

The witch's eyes flicked to the older Winchester, and then back to look at Sam – he didn't know why, but this time it wasn't puppy eyes that made him drop the gun. It was the most reasonable thing he could do. The most logical course of action.

"We need her, Dean," he said, as he lowered his gun. As he took a small backwards step, he saw Hermione's shoulders slump as though she'd been holding her breath, but before she could relax too much, Sam grabbed her shoulder in his hand, and spun her around. He didn't realise how roughly he had pushed her against the wall until he heard her groan, and he slackened his grip a little. He was used to dealing with strong creatures, used to exerting all of his physical strength – he forgot that the witch was so slight, forgot she wasn't made of steel.

But he didn't apologise, because Dean would have hit him. So he said to him instead, "Dean, go grab the cuffs from my bag, would you?"

The witch sighed, moving so her cheek wasn't pressed against the wall. "Are they really necessary?" she muttered.

"I'm letting you live," Sam replied sharply. "If I were you, I'd stop complaining."

She was quiet until Dean came back from the car, and he held a pair of slightly rusted handcuffs in his hand. Sam pulled the girl's arms together behind her back, and she didn't bother struggling. She knew she was fighting out of her weight division. Dean cuffed her and made sure they were tight around her skinny wrists before he stepped back. She twisted her arms, trying to get them comfortable but having trouble.

Sam then pulled her back from the wall, his hand still on her shoulder, and he said. "Come on, you're coming with us."

"Let me take my things," she said, looking over her shoulder at Sam. "I've only got the one bag – over on the table."

Dean picked up the rather ordinary looking shoulder-bag from the table, before glancing at the witch. "Planning on making a quick exit, were we?"

"Can't say I was looking forward to seeing you," she said a little sharply as Sam walked her past Dean, towards the door. Dean had a smug grin on his face, the smile he got whenever he was feeling victorious. He could put up with her remarks so long as he knew that he had the upper hand.

They marched her out to their room, Sam keeping close behind her so if anybody saw them they wouldn't see the cuffs or the gun.

He sat her down at the table, and then he threw her bag on the kitchen bench, out of her reach should she manage to wriggle out of her cuffs with those skinny wrists.

Dean followed them in, shutting the door behind him. "Right then. Seeing as you won't do us all a huge favour and kill the damn witch, I guess I have to call Bobby."

"Why do you have to call Bobby?" Sam said, turning to his brother with a frown.

Dean returned the angry frown. "Because you are hell bent on not killing her, and Bobby will know what to do. And I bet you he will agree with me, so don't get too comfortable there, sweetheart," Dean said over his shoulder to Hermione.

"Don't call me that," she spat.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want," Dean retorted. "And for Christ's sake, Sammy, put that damn shotgun away. You can shoot her if she tries anything but quit waving it around, you're making me nervous."

* * *

><p><em>Pick and pull apart, leaving me split at the seam. I'm saying if you want blood, you'll never get a drop out of me.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys :) so the time setting of this story is fairly hazy. I suppose this is set between 2.10 and 2.11, I think there was a sort of a time space then. I don't want to destroy the series but I want it to stick to the general flow, just with a bit of Hermione here and there. Does that make sense? Anyway, if you wanted a definite time for the setting that is it, or you can completely ignore the series altogether and it can just be a random story. Yeah :) The song for this chapter is 'Through Glass' by Stone Sour. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five – Through Glass<strong>

_So while you're outside looking in, describing what you see, remember what you're staring at is me._

* * *

><p>"<em>So you're saying she's a witch, but she might not be the sort you're used to<em>?"

"Yeah, Bobby, didn't you hear me the first time?" Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead. "She ain't what we usually deal with."

"Tell him my name," said Hermione from across the room. "He might –"

"Shut up!" Dean snapped, before returning to his conversation with Bobby.

"_I have a feeling she might be telling you the truth,_" Bobby's voice crackled through the phone.

"What?" Dean said. "Seriously?"

"_Honestly, Dean, I have met some witches who aren't evil demon-worshippers_," said Bobby rather calmly. "_Most witches of the nasty kind with get their powers at a crossroads, or from a black magic book, or are possessed. Try salt rings, holy water, devil's trap. Go through the basics_."

"Fine," Dean said. "I'll call you back when we've done that." He hung up the phone, and turned to look at Sam who still had a tight grip on his shotgun, sitting across from the witch at the tiny motel-room table.

Hermione glanced at Dean as he got up off the bed, and he said to Sam, "He reckons we should do a few experiments. Can you grab me the salt?"

Sam nodded, getting up to shift through his bag until he found a packet of salt. Dean pulled the witch to her feet by her elbow, and pulled her into the centre of the room. She didn't protest but she did give him another angry look when he said, "Don't move."

She stayed quite still as Sam poured a thin line of salt on the floor around her, and then stepped back to stand beside Dean as they looked at her. She glanced at the salt, and sighed. "You really think that I'm some sort of evil, don't you?"

Before either one of the Winchesters could reply, Hermione had calmly stepped out of the circle. They both frowned as she wandered back over and sat down, wriggling as she tried to get comfortable with her arms still cuffed behind her back.

"Holy water," Dean muttered, before he pulled a flask out of his pocket, took a few steps towards her, and splashed her with it carelessly.

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping at the cold sensation as water hit her face, and dripped down her neck and shoulder. Dean didn't apologise, only watched for signs of sizzling and burning, but she was totally burn-free. Holy water was a negative.

Hermione glanced up at him. "What now, a pentagon? Silver knife? Gonna read me a verse from one of your Latin books?"

Dean looked at Sam, who looked a little lost for words as he often did. Dean turned back to Hermione as he put the holy water flask back into his pocket, and he said, "Fine then, sweetheart, why don't you enlighten us a bit?"

"I'd rather watch you experiment a little more," she said, her humour mirthless, but then Dean whipped a switchblade out of his pocket and pointed it at her.

"Feeling enlightened yet?"

She stared at the knife, and she said, "Fine. But get these handcuffs off me, please. Without my wand I'm just a skinny girl with no fighting skills. _And_ you've got the guns and knives and – whatever else."

Sam and Dean shared a small look, before Dean nodded and Sam stepped forward to release Hermione from the handcuffs. She caressed her wrists, rubbing the sore spots once her hands were free, before she wiped the last few drops of holy water from her cheek. There was a red ring around each of her wrists, and Dean knew he had put the cuffs too tight, but it wasn't like he was going to apologise.

"Alright," she said. "What would you like to know?"

"What are you?" Sam asked, before Dean could ask anything. "Where do you get your powers from? Why are you here?"

"One question at a time," she said, her frown easing slightly. "I am a witch, but not the sort you're used to. I was born with my magic, and it is channelled through my wand."

"But you tried to take my gun before," Sam interrupted. "Without the wand."

Hermione nodded. "That's wandless magic. It's really difficult, I can't really do it very well."

Dean frowned. "I don't like the sound of that."

"You don't like anything about me," Hermione retorted.

They shared a tense moment before Sam interrupted their glaring contest, saying, "So, uh – how did you get your magic?"

"I told you, I was born with it. It's in my blood."

"I've never heard that one before," said Dean, sceptical.

"It's not common in North America," Hermione explained. "It's mostly a European thing. What with the witch hunting in the United States, there hasn't been much of a magical community here."

That sort of made sense to Dean but he was still not entirely convinced. "So what exactly are you capable of?"

"Many different things," she said, staring at her hands for the first time, instead of glaring at him or Sam. "My magical abilities are very well developed and I'm trained in combat, healing and potion-making."

Dean turned the blade over in his hand. "Why are you here?"

"I'm working for the Ministry of Magic," she replied. "A governing body of the magical community in Britain. I'm here in America tracking down the last of an evil cult of witches and wizards who escaped overseas after they lost a wizarding war in Britain."

"A wizarding war?" Sam repeated, an intrigued frown on his brow. "What does that mean?"

"It means that there are many witches and wizards in England, and not all of them are like me. Some of them believe that magic should be used to grasp power from ordinary humans, and take control of them. Some others, like me, believe that sort of thinking is wrong. There was an evil wizard who started an uprising, and that's why there was a war." She gave them a blank look. "You'll be glad to know that my team won."

Dean's next question was rather abrupt. "Do you know evil magic?"

Hermione looked at him with a strange frown, but she didn't hesitate to respond. "I do, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to use it. There are some curses which I will only use in an emergency, and I can assure you that is very rare. However, I would not refrain from killing a person or creature if they threatened me, or my friends or family." She glanced at the brothers. "I'm sure you can relate."

Dean rolled his eyes, as he always did when he felt ever so slightly undermined, and he stood up to pace the room. Sam grabbed his bag and took out the wand, rubbing his fingertips over the intricate engravings and designs of the wood. "So this is your wand?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione nodded. "The one and only. You break it I swear I will wring your neck."

Sam glanced at her small hands and he couldn't help but laugh. "That's funny," he said, as he turned the wand over in his hands. "Anyway, how does this work?"

"I'm not too sure, but – hey!"

Hermione had begun to explain, but she had cried out when Sam had flicked the wand and a bolt of light flashed, flying across the room and smashing a few glasses on the kitchen bench. Sam had jumped backwards in shock, and Hermione's face looked very pale as she glanced from the wand to Sam.

Dean was the first to speak. "What the hell was that?"

Hermione's lips were parted in horror as she looked at Sam. "How – how did you do that? You're a muggle."

"I'm a what?"

"A non-magical person," she said, standing up. "How did you make that happen?"

"I just – flicked it," he said, as he held it far more gingerly than he had before, staring at it like it would explode at any second. "I didn't think it would work."

"Well it _shouldn't_," Hermione snapped. "It's only designed to work for people with magical blood."

Dean frowned, and said, "Wait, magical blood? What does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Hermione said, with an annoyed tone. "It means you have magic in your blood. You can learn and practice magic."

Sam frowned, and stared at Dean, and he frowned that familiar, deep-thought frown of his. "Witches used to use demons to practice magic," he said, thinking aloud as he looked back to the wand.

Dean suddenly realised where Sam was going with this. He had demon blood, and magic came from demons. He looked at the witch, looked at his brother, and then he pulled out his forty-five and pointed it at her.

Her eyes widened as she saw the gun, and she said in a slightly worried voice, "I thought we were past this."

"That was until you had demon blood," Dean spat. "And now I don't know if you're a witch or if you're a demon."

"Dean, we tried the demon tests," Sam said, urging his brother to put the gun down. "And besides, if she's like me –"

"Then she could be dangerous," Dean said, voice tight.

Hermione glanced from one to the other, before she said, "Look, Dean, if I do have demon blood in me, it wasn't of my own choice. I was born this way, and I have no way of finding out why. It's history, that stuff. It's way in the past."

Dean's hand was shaking as she spoke carefully, staring at him intently. "Please, Dean," she said, "Be reasonable. You know I can help you."

"Dean," Sam said, and that was all it took for Dean's arm to drop, and for Hermione to let out a heavy sigh and let her shoulders drop.

After a slightly awkward moment of silence that followed, Hermione quietly sat herself back down again, as though she had come to terms with the situation. Sam suddenly remembered something from before that had been nagging at him.

"How did you know who we were?" he asked.

"What?"

"Before, when I found out what your real name was, you said you already knew we were the Winchesters," said Sam, explaining calmly. "How did you know that?"

Dean frowned as his brother spoke, before he turned to look at the witch with that stare of distrust.

Hermione shrugged. "It's not like you two keep a low profile," she said quietly. "At least, not with my friends. The Embassy here keep tabs on you, and the creatures you hunt."

"Embassy?" Dean and Sam both repeated.

"The Embassy for the Ministry of Magic," Hermione explained, becoming tired of having to go through so much explaining. "There aren't that many witches and wizards like me in America but there's enough to merit some sort of protection agency. And the Embassy take care of problems here when it's needed, though lately they've been out of work thanks to you two," she said, glancing at them.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Should they be paying us or something?"

"I don't think you guys would get along with them all that well. You'd have to actually do what you were told," said Hermione with a smile, as though the very thought of the Winchesters working at the Embassy was a joke.

Which it was.

Dean sighed. "We gonna chit-chat all afternoon, or can we clean up these Death Eatings –"

"Death Eaters."

" – Whatever. Can we just get this over and done with so the witch can leave and we can pretend that none of this ever happened?" He spoke directly to Sam, as though Hermione had absolutely no say at all in the situation.

"Wait up," Hermione said, tone sharp. "How about you just give me back my wand and then you won't have to deal with this at all?"

Dean shot a glare at her and he said, "You seriously think I'm gonna give you back your stick? So you can make us explode and run away cackling?"

"I do _not_ cackle!"

"You're a witch, it's a job requirement."

"You – you impudent, arrogant –"

"HEY!" Sam shouted, shutting both of them up. "Can you two please not fight? Jesus, my brain is about to explode."

They both stared darkly at each other once more before they fell silent. Sam sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell they could do. Dean was thinking much the same, but he was less worried about the witches they were hunting and more worried about the witch in their motel room.

Hermione just wanted to get her wand back. If she could get her wand, she could escape. It was that simple. A quick stunning spell would get the Winchesters out of her way and an accio would retrieve her bag, and then she could disappear.

It was all so simple. But she didn't have her wand.

Unable to think of anything better to do, she sighed.

* * *

><p><em>Before you tell yourself it's just a different scene, remember it's just different from what you've seen.<em>


	6. Chapter 6

Wow, this story has gotten a fantastic reception from the general public of :) I am really pleasantly surprised so thanks very much, you've made me a happy writer. As NeverEnoughTime pointed out in a review, yes the chapters are pretty short but I'm trying to update at least once every two or three days while I'm jobless and on holidays (not much fun but good for you readers). I hope you like, please review and thanks for reading :) the song for this chapter is 'Here We Are Juggernaut' by Coheed and Cambria.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six – Here We Are<strong>

_This is not your place, no this is not your playground, it's my heart…_

* * *

><p>Hermione stared at the sleek black car and she frowned. Dean raised his eyebrow at her as she stared at the open door, blinking as the breeze picked up dirt from the dead garden near the car park.<p>

"What's your problem?" Dean asked, full of attitude. "Never seen a car before?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not an alien. I just don't feel inclined to cooperate. I want to finish the job that I was assigned, without your interference."

"Well this isn't about what you want, it's about what we're going to do," said Dean. "You're coming with us because we're going to take you to Bobby. And then after that, we're going to clean up this mess your pals have left across continental America."

"They are _not _my pals," Hermione snapped, quite adamant about the fact.

"If you mean that, get in the car," said Sam as he came out of the hotel room, carrying the last bag. He threw it in the back seat and Dean wandered around to the driver's seat, getting in and starting the engine. The low rumble was classic and rusty, and if Hermione was anywhere else with anybody else the noise would have made her heart jump. She loved old cars, the classic ones from the black and white movies with white wall tyres and leather seats, the big, thin steering wheels, walnut interior detailing, all varnished and shining.

But she was in a small-town, run-down motel parking lot, with two muggles who intended to dispose of her if she did anything remotely funny. She wished she had listened to Harry and brought somebody with her. Then she wouldn't be in such a mess.

But she was unable to do anything about it. So she sighed loudly, making sure Dean heard her, before she stepped forward and into the back seat, crossing her arms as she sat up straight, staring straight ahead.

And then, with hands so quick she nearly missed it, Sam reached in and took her arm and cuff linked her to the inside of the door. Hermione exclaimed, "Hey!" as he did so, and struggled, but like she had said before, without her wand she was just a small girl with far less physical strength than either one of the Winchesters.

She glared at Sam from her seat as she felt her blood boil. She hadn't ever felt so degraded. Being locked up by a muggle! Her friends would never let her hear the last of it if they found out about this.

Hermione saw a small smile tugging at the edge of Sam's lips as he said, "Hey, no hard feelings. It's not our fault you're a witch."

"If I was a bad witch, I'd have killed you as soon as I knew you were in this damn town!" Hermione cried, pulling at the restraint and wincing as the metal bit into her skin. "You two are endlessly stupid if you think I'm evil. Not to mention I could already have taken care of the Death Eaters and be back in New York if you hadn't _captured _me and taken my _wand_!"

Dean frowned at her in the rear vision mirror. "Do you ever shut up!"

Unable to think of anything clever or witty to say, Hermione simply made a noise halfway between a shriek of anger and a cry of rage, before she tried to cross her arms and then realised she couldn't and she made another similar noise.

"I hate you," she said, feeling rather childish as Sam shut the door and Dean took off the handbrake and began to reverse.

"Trust me, sweetheart, the feeling is mutual," he said.

"Do _not _call me sweetheart."

* * *

><p>By the end of the rather long road trip, Hermione was almost certain if she had mastered wandless magic, she would definitely have murdered Dean Winchester by now. He was so crude, so careless, and his ego was big enough to have its own gravitation pull. It was torture for her to have to sit in such a confined space with him for hours on end, with no way of getting out.<p>

When she had started to give him the silent treatment, he began to talk non-stop about all the different witches he had killed. Hermione was quite sure by the way he described them that they weren't magical the same way she was, and that they were legitimately evil. But the sentiment behind his story telling was enough to make her angry with him, angry enough to throw a few choice curses his way. The then proclaimed that he had 'won' like it was some sort of contest, and turned up his ungodly music so she couldn't retort.

Sam wasn't so bad. He sometimes would ask her if she was hungry or thirsty, and she accepted a bottle of water from him at one point, when she weighed up her anger against her dehydration and decided her need for water was greater.

He had passed her the water and given her a small, apologetic smile. She felt a polite 'thank you' forming on her tongue before she remembered that she hated them both and wanted nothing to do with either of them. So she had said nothing.

And for a short while she fell asleep, which she had thought would be impossible due to the notable lack of suspension in the car. It was so bumpy and rattly on the inside, even though it looked like such a smooth, sleek automobile. But she had lay down with her cheek pressed against the seat, one hand above her head, chained to the handle, and the other falling from the seat and touching the car floor.

She slept until the car stopped, at which point she head the doors shut as the Winchesters got out, and she forced herself to sit up, yawning and rubbing at her tired, sore eyes. She blinked, looking around at the surroundings.

If she didn't know any better, she would say they were parked in the middle of a scrap yard. Old bits and pieces of rusted, dented, ancient cars were piled and scattered all around her, except for straight ahead where there was an old-looking house with a huge garage nearby.

Hermione stretched her legs as far as the backseat space would allow and she watched the Winchesters stride up to the house. Dean glanced back at her once and when he saw her watching he gave her a grin, a sort of cheeky, look-who's-running-the-show-now sort of grin.

In that one moment, which Hermione later decided was a delusional moment because of all of the stress and the tiredness, she felt rather torn because she hated Dean with such passion, but when she watched him smile at her (albeit nastily), she couldn't help but think that he had such a damn charming smile, and when she watched him walk she couldn't help but think of how very handsome and fit he was, and remembering that he had been attracted to her at the bar, before he knew she was a witch.

That sort of made her feel a little bit nervous. Most of the guys she managed to attract were nowhere near as good looking as Dean. They were usually bankers, or librarians. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but guys like Dean didn't like girls like Hermione because in her world, in her realm, she was intimidating and frightening. And guys don't like being the little spoon in a relationship, generally speaking, and Hermione had clashed with every boy she had ever dated.

She sighed heavily as she thought of how stupid her situation was. Hermione had wished with all of her heart she could have just left. As soon as the Winchesters had arrived in Cody she should have left, and come back later for the Death Eaters. She had been told stories about them from the others at the Embassy. Every single story she had been told and file reported concerning them might as well have had a huge sign on it saying 'Winchesters: avoid at all cost."

And Hermione had made her first mistake when she didn't run away. And she didn't run away because a ruggedly handsome, smooth talking, unshaven Texan hunter had flirted with her in a bar in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

She sighed. She might be flawlessly clever and logical, but she was so pathetic when it came to men.

* * *

><p>Bobby didn't look terribly pleased to see the Winchester boys but he never really did. He grunted a greeting at them before passing them a beer, and asked, "So, what did you do with the witch?"<p>

"She's here," said Sam.

"She's what?" Bobby repeated slowly, turning to look at Sam with such an annoyed stare that Sam took a small step backwards. "You're telling me that you brought a damn witch onto my property?"

"Look, Bobby –" Sam began, but Dean cut him off.

"I wanted to kill her," he said, shrugging. "Honestly. I wanted to kill her when she had the wand and without it she's just as annoying. I say we send her off, get her pushing up daisies."

Bobby frowned at him, and a moment later he repeated, "Wand?" He glanced between the two boys. "What do you mean, wand?"

Neither one of the boys replied, because they knew Bobby well enough to know that they had done something wrong. They could both tell by the sound of his voice.

"Are you telling me you captured and abducted a witch with a _wand_?"

Dean cringed. "Oh, did – did I not mention that little piece of information?"

Bobby sighed, and put down his beer rather heavily on the table. "You _idjits_," he spat. "You god damn idjits. You're lucky her pals haven't already tracked you down killed ya. God dammit."

Bobby began to wander outside as he muttered swear words and curses under his breath, and when he got to the car and saw the handcuff, he said, "Get her out."

Sam quickly opened the door and unlocked the handcuff, letting Hermione get out. She muttered under her breath so only Sam could hear, "What I wouldn't give to leg-lock you." She looked like she had more to complain about but then she glanced up and saw Bobby.

"Oh Merlin," she said, and Sam could see the shock on her face. "It's you."

Dean and Sam's jaws dropped as Bobby groaned and said, "Jesus Christ, of all the witches in the world to abduct, why'd you have to snatch Hermione Granger?"

* * *

><p><em>We were stupid, we got caught, but nothing matters anymore.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

Hello again :) hey just a thought, if you guys know of any good songs that might fit into this fanfiction, message me up or leave a song title in a review and I shall check it out. :) This week's song is 'Enemy of the World' by Four Year Strong, a personal favourite band of mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven – Enemy Of The World<br>**

_I'll turn back the clock, and as the minutes count down, I'll put my trust in this world cause this world can't trust in me._

* * *

><p>"You know her?" Sam asked, completely thrown by this turn of events.<p>

Bobby simply glanced at Sam, before Hermione replied quietly, "Yes. We met at a conference at the Embassy."

Somehow, this piece of information did not make either one of the Winchesters feel very reassured. "You work with witches, Bobby?" Dean asked, staring at the man in disbelief

"Well, yeah," Bobby replied. "Every now and then they do a job for me. And sometimes they tell me where I should send my hunters."

"So you collaborate with them?" Sam asked, not quite as shocked as Dean was, but rather curious instead. "Like a business arrangement?"

Bobby nodded, and Hermione said, "I worked with him exterminating a vampire nest in Seattle a few months back. But – but I knew him as Steven Singer, not Bobby."

When the boys glanced at Bobby, he shrugged and said, "It's my middle name. I didn't give them my real name when I started there. It's hard to shake old habits, 'specially when it comes to witches."

Dean was hesitant when he asked his next question. "So – so are we going to get in trouble for this?"

"For kidnapping, you mean?" Bobby said, voice turning into a low growl. "I'm pretty certain it's illegal in some states, and even if it isn't you're gonna get a hidin' from me."

"Hey, how were we supposed to know?" Dean asked, suddenly on the defensive. "Maybe if you'd slipped the fact you work with witches into the conversation before now, the whole situation could have been avoided!"

"And you woulda gone off your tree if I told you I was," Bobby snapped.

Sam quickly stopped the argument from escalating. "Just – Dean, cut it out. Right now we've got an issue – Bobby, we could probably use your help."

The older man paused for a moment before speaking. "My help? You've got a good witch with you, boy. You don't need my help."

"I figure she's less inclined to help us since we kidnapped her and stole her wand," Sam said, before muttering to Bobby, "I don't want to give it back in case she turns me into a frog."

Hermione's hearing must have been brilliant, because she said from where she stood near the car, "Trust me, Sam, it's not my style."

Bobby looked a little amused at the witch's comment. "Look, boys," he said, turning to the Winchesters, "I assume that bunch of deaths I sent you chasing after turned out to be some sort of evil right down Hermione's lane. I think this is a good opportunity for you to work with her, get to know her, get to know how the good magic works."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Dean hissed. "I don't want anything to do with her magic mumbo jumbo."

"Because," Bobby said, growling at him, "If you do a good job and get on her good side, she might recommend you to her pals at the Embassy and you could start getting a bit of money for hunting."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, Sam looking interested and Dean looking sceptical.

"I think it's worth a shot, Dean," said Sam.

Dean shook his head. "I'm really, really not liking this at all."

Bobby sighed. "Dean, when have I ever deliberately tried to get you killed?" After a moment, he added, "You know, besides from telling you where the monsters are hiding and all."

For a short moment, Dean tried to think of something to argue his case. "I just – I just don't like witches!" he said, frustrated. "It's not in my system to trust them, alright?"

"If she does get you killed, come back and haunt me," said Bobby gruffly, as though that was reassurance enough.

Dean turned to look at the witch leaning on his car, and having lost the fight with Bobby and Sam, he growled at her, "Get the hell off my car."

She simply smiled, and in any other situation Dean might have felt inclined to smile back. She was very pretty. But he glowered at her and proceeded to storm inside. He needed a beer.

* * *

><p>They spent the next few hours going over what they knew about the Death Eaters. Hermione knew more than any of them, of course, but Dean was having a lot of trouble being able to listen to her without feeling extremely sceptical, and of course wanting to negatively comment on everything she said.<p>

"I'm just saying, I don't get why you can't just throw up a spell to kill them," he said, munching on an oven pie Bobby had heated up for them. "It's just too damn complicated."

"There are so many reasons why I can't," Hermione said, voice strained in her exasperation. "I can't kill because the Ministry says it is a last resort. They want them captured. And I can't kill more than one person at once anyway, that's impossible to cast a curse like that. And these bad guys have their own wands – they can stop curses with shields."

"Would you have been able to take on all of them at once?" Sam asked with a curious frown. "I mean, I'm not having a stab at your skills or whatever – but isn't it dangerous?"

"Of course it's dangerous," Hermione said. "But I've been practicing magic since I was eleven and fighting off evil since I was fifteen or sixteen. And it's not all magic, you know. There are sometimes tactics involved." She said it as though it were slightly amusing, with a small smile on her lips. She found it funny that these boys had no idea about magic, and Sam felt as though she was being slightly nicer to him. She wasn't making any nice jokes with Dean. Probably because he was being an asshole.

"But therein lies my next problem," she said, still facing Sam. She tapped her fingers on the table as she took a small breath and said, "I can't fight without my wand. And you've got my wand."

Sam swallowed a small lump of uncertainty that had built up in his throat. "I – uh, I'm not sure."

"I can turn you into a frog," she said, tersely. "Quite easily. If you give me back my wand now, we can avoid any such transformations taking place."

"Don't give it to her, Sam," said Dean, voice low and growling.

Hermione whipped around to face him, an angry glint in her eyes. "I will definitely turn you into something you're not, and trust me it won't be nearly as nice as an amphibian."

Dean opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't think of anything to say. He was about to say, I'd like to see you try, but then he realised she probably would, and he'd rather not find out what awful things she could do with that magic stick.

"Hermione," said Sam gently, "If we give you back your wand, and promise to help you out with this case, will you promise not to hurt us?"

She nodded, not too quickly to appear suspicious and not too hesitant to be unsure. "Of course," she said. "I can do that."

Sam couldn't help the small smile playing on his lips. "And can you give us a demonstration?"

Hermione smiled back. "If you like."

Dean was less than impressed by the whole situation, but Bobby had told him to shut the hell up, because he was acting like a kid and annoying everybody. Dean had resorted to crossing his arms and frowning.

Sam had given the witch her wand, and she carefully turned it over in her hands a few times, feeling the ridges and the lines etched into the wood with her elegant fingers. It didn't make her seem more powerful, but she looked a little less tired and angry as soon as the wand touched her skin. She smiled up at Sam and said a quiet, "Thank you."

Dean muttered under his breath, "Fantastic." Bobby was the only one who heard him, and he chose to ignore him.

Sam asked Hermione, "So, what exactly can you do with that?"

"Um – it's difficult to narrow it down," she said, a little sheepishly. "I studied charms and transformation and duelling and all sorts of different things. I guess – I guess I could give you a few examples."

Dean watched, trying not to get too uptight as he watched her lift her wand. He was feeling uneasy about the whole situation. He didn't like being scared of her. She was small, skinny, curly-haired, and he was feeling _frightened _of her. It wasn't right.

She lifted her wand, and she said in her sweet little British voice, "_Accio_ car keys."

Dean's eyes widened as he felt the keys to his Impala shifting in his pocket, and a second later they flew out towards Hermione's open hand. He tried to snatch them out of the air but wasn't fast enough. Initially, he was in shock, but when he saw her raising her eyebrows and a small smile creep upon her lips, he glowered at her and growled, "What makes you think you're keeping those?"

"Nothing," she said, throwing them back to him. "Just proving a point."

Dean glanced at his brother who was wide-eyed. "Get a grip," he said grumpily.

Sam blinked, and shut his mouth, but he didn't say anything. His eyes returned to watch Hermione, who raised her wand again and said, "_Avis_."

Out of nowhere, a whole bunch of tiny, fluttering birds appeared, shimmering like they were made of light. Dean wasn't sure whether to be enchanted or plain freaked out. He watched them dart around the room above his head, felt the slight brush of air as they flew by him. Sam laughed as one perched on his hand, and Bobby simply raised his eyebrows as one took up a seat on his hat.

A moment later, Hermione's wand dropped and the birds disappeared.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Alright, so you can make stuff move and do magic tricks with your wand. I don't see how that makes you all-powerful."

The glare she shot him was dark, but that wasn't what made him jump out of his seat. What did startle him was when she stood up, and began to destroy things with her wand, breaking windows and doors and blasting holes in the walls, shattering all of the glasses in the cupboards and making the plates fly across the room. Sam and Bobby cried out, leaping up to get out of harm's way, and Dean swore loudly as a large breadboard nearly hit him in the face.

And a second later, it had stopped.

Dean was hesitant to stand up again from where he was crouched on the floor. He stared at the witch, and she stared back with raised eyebrows, like she was daring him to insult her again. She waved her wand and said quietly, "_Reparo_," and all of the pieces of glass and china began to pull themselves back together, floating back neatly to their cupboards. The holes in the walls closed up, good as new, the shattered windows repaired themselves and the cracks in the wood of the cupboard doors disappeared.

"Jesus Christ, Hermione," said Bobby, eyes still wide, "Can you give me some warning next time?"

Hermione simply replied, "Dean won't listen to me when I talk, so I'm going to speak in a language he'll understand."

"What, destruction?" Dean said, standing up. "You think that will work?"

"It will," said Hermione, not looking at him as she spoke. "Because next time it will be your car."

Dean didn't know whether to be furious or terrified as Sam and Bobby started laughing at the expression on his face.

* * *

><p><em>I feel like I'm jaded, I've given it all I have to give. Burnt out, frustrated, I feel like I'm an enemy of the world. <em>


	8. Chapter 8

Yay, new chapter :) hope you're still enjoying this, it might turn out to be longer than I had first expected but it'll still be good. I hope. Thanks for reading :D this chapter's song is 'She's A Genius' by Jet (which fits Hermione perfectly).

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight – Genius<strong>

_They said, "Hey there, girl, tell me what do you do?"  
>She says, "Nothing, but I'm damn sure it's more than you."<em>

* * *

><p>It had been decided that they wouldn't leave to catch the Death Eaters until the next morning. Hermione seemed keen to get going straight away, but Sam really wanted to rest for one day, and Dean still didn't trust Hermione enough to let her anywhere near his car with what he liked to call the 'devil stick'.<p>

"It's not devil magic, Dean," Hermione had sighed, reprimanding him after the fourth or fifth time he had used the term.

"Yeah? And how would you know?" Dean had asked, becoming less and less friendly as time passed. He was completely and utterly opposed to working with the witch. He didn't care how much money was in it for him, he didn't want anything to do with her. Apart from the fact she was a freaking witch, she was bossy, self-satisfied and manipulative.

He had said this much to Bobby, who had replied, "To be fair, Dean, so are you. Probably why you ain't getting on that well."

For the most part, Dean was in a crappy mood all afternoon. Bobby drove out and got him a burger which made him a little cheerier. He was sitting inside Bobby's office while he ate, trying to ignore the loud cracks and explosions coming from outside, where Hermione was demonstrating more magic to Sam.

Dean stood and wandered over to the window, watching them in the scraps yard. He watched as Hermione made an intricate swirling motion with her wand, before flicking it at one of the busted cars, and a moment later it shook itself, before new tyres and panels appeared out of nowhere, and the car was as good as the day it was bought.

He watched her move, watched the way she laughed as Sam stood with his mouth open. He watched the way her curly hair danced when she turned around, and for a moment she was looking at him with annoyingly pretty eyes, early afternoon sun kissing her pale skin.

Dean scowled, reaching up to pull the blinds shut, knowing it would be easier to dislike her if she had warts.

* * *

><p>"So that car is fixed?" Sam asked, wandering over to the old Ford sedan.<p>

Hermione shook her head. "Not all of it. I fixed the panels and wheels because I understand how those parts work – you can't really just fix something using a spell. You have to have some sort of idea of how it should work and how to fix it. I don't know much about what's under the bonnet of a car, apart from where to top up the washer fluid."

Sam chuckled at the thought of Hermione trying to fix a broken down vehicle. "I guess you don't need a car. You've got a broomstick."

He was a little taken aback when she replied, "Ugh, I am so bad at flying."

"Wait, you actually have a broomstick?" he asked.

She smiled a little at his shock. "I don't use it much. It's sort of like – compulsory equipment."

Sam shook his head, trying to clear his brain. "You are full of surprises."

Despite all of his initial doubts, Sam couldn't help but be intrigued by Hermione. He wasn't sure whether it was because of her magical abilities, or whether it was because of her character. She was exceptionally clever. Through their various conversations, Sam discovered she was a literature geek, had extensive knowledge of history, and she had studied both anthropology and political science at university – what she liked to refer to as 'muggle school'.

They were probably getting along extremely well because of their intelligence. There seemed to be an endless amount of things to talk about, though most of those conversations had been put on hold while Hermione was showing Sam how her magic worked. Sam liked the idea of having somebody with him to have intelligent conversations with. Dean always ended up talking about movies or girls or beer or girls or food or girls. Sam was desperate for educated debates and he'd found himself a person – well, a witch – who could satisfy that.

You don't just go to Stanford without a natural appetite for brain food.

* * *

><p>Hermione was liking Sam a lot. He was a lot smarter than she had first thought, and she was very impressed when she found out he'd been to Stanford. It was also endlessly amusing to watch his facial expressions when she performed magic. Even the simplest of spells seemed to make him astounded, even if he wasn't too impressed when she had turned his shirt pink.<p>

"Can I ride the broomstick?" he asked her suddenly.

She was about to laugh at him for asking something so ridiculous when she realised he was dead serious. "Oh, I – I'm not sure," she said. "I don't know if I'm supposed to let muggles use it."

"What if I was in an emergency situation and I had to know how to ride a broomstick?" he asked.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. It could legitimately happen. "You have a point. But I'm not that good, so I might get one of my friends at the embassy to give you a quick lesson sometime."

Sam's face split in a smile. "That's awesome."

Hermione smiled back before she could stop herself. His grin was so contagious. Before she could respond, Dean came outside with a garbage bag to put in the wheelie bin. Hermione glanced at him, watching him carefully. She didn't really want to fight with him constantly, so she deliberately avoided making it a glare.

"Having fun, witch?" he asked casually.

"Loads," she replied bluntly, not really wanting to start a conversation, knowing any exchange of words would lead to an argument.

Dean threw the rubbish away then slammed the lid of the bin shut, and tipped his head up at his brother. "Still feel like having a bonfire, Sammy?"

Sam frowned as he said, "I'm pretty sure we decided to scratch that plan."

Hermione was slightly taken aback when Dean shot a smile at them, and said cheerily, "Ah well. You just let me know when you change your mind, bro. I've got my kerosene all set and ready to go."

He wandered off back to the house and left the other two slightly less chipper than they were before. Hermione sighed a little as she pushed back the hair from her eyes, and she muttered, "Your brother sure knows how to dampen the mood."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Sorry about him. He's – well, old habits, you know. All of the witches he's ever known have been evil." He glanced down at Hermione and his frown softened. "Aw, come on, Hermione. He'll come around. It's like – like you're a different sort of burger he's never tried before. And he doesn't like it at first. After a while, he'll love you."

Hermione tried not to snort. "Nice metaphor, loser."

"I do my best," Sam grinned.

Hermione did smile back but she wasn't nearly as upbeat as she had been before. She really didn't like how Dean was treating her, but what could she do about it? Sam might be willing to adapt to the change but Dean wasn't. She would just have to deal with it, and put up with his 'burn the witch' jokes for a while longer.

But how much longer would that be?

* * *

><p>Later on that night, the next fight reared its ugly head when Hermione and Dean conflicted over means of transportation, of all things. Hermione wanted to apparate, because they could get there quicker, and Dean wanted to drive.<p>

"There is no way in hell you're coming near me with your magic," he said loudly, pointing at her from across the kitchen.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, trying not to raise her voice back at him. "You've wasted enough time driving all the way here and staying here all day, so we should try to get there as soon as we possibly can. I can get us to Idaho in a second, but driving would take hours."

Dean shook his head. "Absolutely not. If I am going to be working with you, we're going to be doing things my way."

"Oh yeah, because that worked so well last time," Hermione snapped. "If you'd have just minded your own business, I could have captured those bastards and be back home in time for the weather report."

"I don't know if you noticed," Dean said, eyes narrowed, "But I don't mind my own business, because it's what I do to save lives."

Sam and Bobby glanced at each other with raised eyebrows as the argument went back and forth between the two. There was no middle ground at all. Hermione was trying to enforce her magic on Dean which she knew was making him uncomfortable, and Dean was blatantly refusing to see eye to eye with Hermione on anything.

Bobby interrupted the bickering when he said loudly, "Hey!" He paused, waiting for everybody to turn towards him before he started talking. "Seems you two can't get along, so why don't you drive there, Sam and Dean – and Hermione can teleport herself. That way, she can get you a motel room, all nice and ready for when you arrive. How does that sound?"

Hermione nodded, keeping whatever smart comments she had to herself. Dean opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when Bobby shot him a look which said, 'don't start', after which he mumbled an affirmative response.

"Alright then," said Bobby, not really feeling like he'd solved anything. "You two go get packing. I'll be in the study if you need me. Hermione, you're welcome to stay the night if you want."

Hermione shook her head. "No, that's fine." She knew Bobby only had two bedrooms – one was his, and one was used for storage. The boys slept in the study, and she wouldn't really feel that comfortable sleeping in such close quarters with them just yet. "I'll head off in a while, and I'll call to let you know where to drive to."

Sam wandered off to get his gear together, and Bobby went to the study. Dean turned to Hermione, and he said, "You better not go off after those witches before we get there."

Hermione frowned slightly. "What if they find me?"

"No 'what ifs' about it," Dean said. "I haven't killed a witch since I was twenty two, and you ain't gonna take this chance away from me now."

Hermione noted how he stood, with arms crossed and chest pushed out, staring down at her with intense dark green eyes. She tipped her chin up, refusing to be intimidated, and she replied coolly, "Trust me, if you went off after them alone, you would end up dead. So don't act like I'm an accessory in this hunt, Dean, because without me there wouldn't be a hunt at all."

Without much else left to say, Hermione strode out of the house, taking her bag and wand from the kitchen table.

* * *

><p><em>Hey there boy, come over and sit; love is when you wanna kiss and you get bit.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

Hey kiddos :) this one is more or less emotional conflict chapter. But I think you'll find it interesting :) The song is 'Drive' by Gaslight Anthem, a pretty cruisey song which sort of fits. At least, some of the lines do. I like it, haha :) enjoy reading, and thanks for all your wonderful reviews.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine – Drive <strong>

_And we're much too young of men to carry such heavy heads._

* * *

><p>His muscles strained as he heaved the luggage into the back seat of the Impala, a slight chill running across his skin as the early morning cold seeped inside of his jacket. Hermione had called Sam about an hour after she had left last night, saying she had tracked down the Death Eaters to where they were staying at a town called Rexburg in south-eastern Idaho.<p>

"_They haven't gone all that far,_" she had told him over the phone. "_They can't apparate, that much I'm certain of. So they must be flying, or even driving. God save us all, a Death Eater behind the wheel of a vehicle. That much should be Unforgivable._"

Sam had meant to ask what they were supposed to do if the Death Eaters just up and left when they tried to capture them, but he guessed he could ask her when he got there because she hung up pretty quickly after she told them which motel to check into.

Dean was still inside, brushing his teeth and getting dressed. Sam had been up for an hour already and gone for a run, which Dean never did. Sam glanced up and saw his brother in the bathroom window. He hollered at him, "Hurry up Dean, I'll leave without you."

In classic morning form, Dean proceeded to flip his brother the finger before rinsing his mouth out, and a few minutes later emerging from the front door with his bag.

"I don't know why you're in such a rush, Sammy," Dean said grumpily.

Sam took his brothers bags and threw them in the car, before wandering around and getting in the passenger seat. "I don't like leaving jobs half done."

Dean glanced at him with a strange frown before he turned front and started the car. They drove mostly in silence for a short while, while Sam mapped out their trip and Dean concentrated on driving, drumming his fingers along to the Led Zeppelin tape playing.

Sam was, in all honestly, quite excited about getting to work with Hermione. He wanted to see what sort of magic she was capable of in a combat situation, but mostly he wanted to see Dean's reaction when she kicked serious ass and he would be forced to admit that she was in fact a great asset to have. Sam wanted Hermione to be a phone call away all the time, somebody both he and his brother could rely on to help them out.

He glanced sideways at his brother. He had the feeling that Dean might not be quite so excited about getting to work with the witch. In fact, he'd go as far to say that Dean was very unhappy about having to spend any more time with her at all.

Sam cleared his throat, before he turned down the music a little and he said, "So what's going on with you, Dean?"

Dean's expression remained stony as he said, "What?"

"You haven't said much since we left," Sam shrugged. "I dunno, I think maybe you're overreacting a little bit about the whole witch business."

"Aw, come on, Sam," Dean said, realising what his brother was trying to do. "I don't wanna talk about my feelings."

"Why not?" Sam asked, "I mean, you're obviously unhappy about it."

"Doesn't mean I want to vent like a pre-pubescent girl, okay," Dean spat. "Some of us can deal with our _feelings_ without having a deep and meaningful every time something goes pear shaped."

Sam sat back in his seat, trying to repress an exasperated sigh at his brother's bad mood. Dean glanced at him and saw the annoyed frown on Sam's face, and he said, "Look, Sammy, I'm just having trouble adjusting. Bobby's sending us off to work with a _witch_, a creature I've spent all my life trying to get six feet under. It ain't easy, and that's all there is to it."

"But you could at least try a little harder," Sam said. "Hermione is a great person, and I'm sure if you got to know her a little better –"

"I'd probably like her even less," Dean interrupted, shooting Sam an angry glare. "Just drop it, Sammy. I'm not going to try to be her chum, she's got you for that."

Sam resigned himself from the discussion with a sigh and settled down into the seat, trying to fall asleep. He didn't know what else he could do. He couldn't force Dean to like Hermione, he knew how stubborn his brother could be. And for the record, the witch was pretty stubborn, too.

It was probably never going to work.

* * *

><p>After about twenty minutes, Sammy was snoring and Dean was driving in relative peace. He couldn't stop thinking about the problem at hand, which he'd been trying to avoid talking about. The problem that he and Hermione didn't get along, and this whole operation was bound to go haywire.<p>

He clenched the wheel as he thought of how frustrating the whole situation was. It was like everybody was on Hermione's side, like Bobby and Sam both expected Dean to just throw all of his instincts out the window and trust her with his life, like they expected him to simply be _okay_ working with her. He couldn't believe how stupid this was. Did their father know about this? Did he know Bobby had been collaborating with witches?

No, Dean was sure his father would have nothing to do with them. He would never have worked with any creatures, no matter how 'good' they were. John Winchester would have stuck by his principles, and Dean would stick by them too.

Dean frowned at the long winding road ahead of him, and he drove a little faster. There was no way in hell he was going to just 'get along' with Hermione. He wasn't going to make it that easy, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

And Dean swore to himself as he watched the lines of the road rush past in a blur that he would never, under any circumstances, be forced to work with this witch or any other witch again.

No matter how god damn cute she was.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Dean and Sam found the motel they were supposed to be staying at and discovered that Hermione had left the key to their room in an envelope on the desk. Dean wasn't surprised that she had chosen to sleep in a separate room, though he was pleasantly surprised that she had already fixed them up with a room, too.<p>

Not long after they lugged all of their bags inside, Sam said he needed to go get some supplies from the supermarket, and left Dean alone in the motel room. It was pretty spacey, and looked alarmingly familiar to the last one they had stayed in. The same dodgy green wall paper and too-soft mattresses, lamps that had to be tapped before they flickered on. Still, a room's a room. Can't complain too much, Dean thought as he shrugged off his leather jacket.

To his surprise, Dean found that there was a large chunk of quiche in the fridge. He wasn't sure if somebody had left it there from before, but he wasn't going to argue with that sort of karma. He pulled it out and reheated it in the microwave, which seemed to take forever. Eventually he got around to eating the small surprise snack, thinking of how damn lucky he was, lucky that he'd been the one to find it and not Sam.

It was damn good quiche, too.

After finishing his food, he was going to lie down and get a bit of shut eye before they had to worry about tracking down the witches. However before he could even get near the pillow, he heard a knock at the door. He wandered over and opened the door only slightly, being cautious as always, when he saw who it was.

She raised her eyebrows and said, "Excited to see me?"

Dean snorted as he opened the door for her. "Yeah, cause you're such a sight for sore eyes."

The witch wandered in, looking around the room for a moment. As Dean watched her, he realised that despite his initial sarcasm, she really was a sight for sore eyes. She was wearing the same striped shirt that she had on at the bar in Cody, but instead of black jeans she was wearing faded denim jeans which clung to her curves. Her hair seemed to have a mind of its own as strands fell from the small knot she had tied it in, and her eyes were big and brown and wonderful.

Dean shook his head. No, he wasn't allowed to think like that.

"So where's Sam?" she asked, turning back around to look at Dean as he shut the door and put the latch back on.

"He's out getting supplies."

"Do you reckon he'll be long?" she asked casually, as Dean wandered back towards her.

He frowned slightly as he replied, "I dunno, maybe half an hour."

Dean watched as the smallest of smiles tugged at her lips, and she said, "That's more than enough time." And a second later, she had stepped towards him, taken a hold of his collar and reached up to kiss him.

Dean was very taken aback at the feeling of her soft, warm lips on his, and he could feel how smooth and flawless her skin was against his. He tried to push her away, but his movements seemed to be slow, his body numb and heavy, not doing what he wanted as she moulded herself to him.

After what seemed like forever, but might have only been a few seconds, Dean gave in and he kissed her back, holding her neck with one hand and wrapping the other around her waist, pressing himself against her, feeling how warm and soft she was and hearing her sigh gently and…

* * *

><p>"HEY, wake up, Dean! We're here."<p>

Dean nearly hit the roof when Sam hit him on the chest with a heavy palm, stunning him back into consciousness. Dean blinked, the sunlight hurting his eyes as the images of the dream flashed beneath his eyelids. He groaned, running his hands over his face. He remembered now that he'd swapped driving with Sam, and he must have fallen asleep in the passenger seat.

And then he'd had a dream about Hermione.

Dean sighed as he thought to himself, I really need to get laid.

Sam knocked on his window as he wandered past him, saying in a voice muted by the car door, "Come on, sleepyhead. We haven't got all day."

Dean scowled at him before he got out of the car. That was one long, awkward drive he would have gladly missed.

* * *

><p><em>And if you're too tired, go to sleep my brother, I'm alright to drive.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

New chapter, new chapter :D this is going wonderfully. Unfortunately I may not be updating as quickly as I have been because I have also picked up on my other unfinished stories, so please don't hate me and enjoy reading! This song is 'The End Complete III' by Coheed and Cambria.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten – The End Complete<strong>

_You've been stealing my lines, now go on living your lies. For on your knees you will find you'll face a jury in hell…_

* * *

><p>Hermione had in fact booked them a separate motel room, but she wasn't there when they arrived. She left the key in a small envelope at the front desk, and the lady at reception knew to give it to them. However, it did not go quite as either of the brothers thought it would. They didn't even have to ask for a room before the woman's eyes glazed over, and she simply handed them the envelope.<p>

Dean glanced at his brother, before looking back at the woman. She smiled at them, eyes unfocused and looking like she was on something, but as soon as Sam had tentatively reached out and taken it from her, she snapped right out of it. She shook her head, before glancing at them and saying, "Sorry, what was I saying?"

On the way to their room, Dean said, "Man, I do not like this."

"What?"

"This whole magic thing," he explained. "I mean, that woman was under some sort of spell. That just ain't right."

Sam laughed. "The first time you don't use a dodgy credit card to pay for a room – the first time you don't pay at all, and you're actually complaining?"

"Come on, Sam. Stealing money from big banks isn't the same as screwing with somebody's brain."

"It's not screwing with someone's brain," said a voice from behind them.

Both of the brothers jumped and turned, and just as Dean was reaching to get his gun, he saw exactly who it was.

Hermione looked a little smug at their reaction. "It's just a bit of innocent bemusement," she finished. "Have a nice drive?"

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, and images of the dream he'd had flicked through his mind. He scowled at her instantly, and said, "Take it you didn't get knocked off your broomstick, then?"

Hermione laughed as she brushed past him, saying, "Oh come now, Dean, I'm nowhere near reckless enough to ride my broomstick during the day."

Taken aback by her response, Dean glanced at his brother and hissed, "She actually has a _broomstick_?"

Sam shrugged and said, "What do you expect? She is a witch."

Dean moved to follow Hermione, scowling at his little brother as he did so. "I can't believe you're so cool with all this."

* * *

><p>The three wasted no time planning the operation. As soon as the boys had arrived in their room, Hermione told them to start getting their gear ready. It would be one more hour, maybe an hour and a half until sundown, and she didn't want to waste a moment of time after daytime ended, because the attacks almost always happen at night.<p>

The Death Eaters wouldn't dare attack during the day, simply for fear of being caught.

Hermione had already narrowed down the location of the Death Eaters to a small area of a nearby forest, and she explained her thoughts while the brothers began to load up their weapons and organise their backpacks.

"I am almost certain they'll be hiding somewhere in this region," Hermione said, tapping her finger on the circle she had drawn on a map.

"_Almost _certain?" Dean asked.

"I can't be totally sure," Hermione said, showing her frustration at his constant second guessing via the small twitch at the corner of her mouth. "I've tracked them to the edge of town and their trail leads away into the forest. Once we get there, I can scour the area and be sure. I'm positive they won't leave town via apparition, because all of their wands are on high alert."

"I'm not even going to try to understand that crazy talk," she heard Dean mutter under his breath, but she didn't need to glare at him because Sam did it for her.

"Try to cooperate," he said. "Hermione is letting us help out."

Dean shut his mouth, but he rolled his eyes. Hermione didn't know what was more annoying.

* * *

><p>The dirt track was horrible for walking, especially considering it had rained the day before so the track was muddy and it hurt Hermione's calves every time she pushed her foot off the ground. However she was far too proud to admit that she was hurting at all, so she simply clenched her teeth and kept going.<p>

Until they hit a fork in the road, and she had to figure out which way the Death Eaters had gone. Dean didn't miss the opportunity to question her methods, asking her where she would be going a little too merrily as though he expected her to fail miserably at tracking. Fortunately, Hermione was an exceptionally bright witch and if Dean was going to try to outsmart her, she would always win.

"_Occultus aperio_," she whispered, pointing her wand at the thin forest path, and a moment later there was a faint glowing on the ground. Hermione leaned down, following the glow to the left hand path, and she could see the magic faintly outlining a trail of footprints in the dirt, leading up towards the cabin.

"Just as I thought," she muttered to herself.

"What was that?" Dean asked, sceptical as ever. While Hermione didn't mind Sam's questions because was genuinely curious, Dean's were annoying because it felt more like interrogation.

"That was a spell to reveal if magic had passed this way," Hermione said, trying to keep her explanation simple. "It doesn't always work, but one of the Death Eaters must have used a spell to polish their boots. And it's left the slightest trace of magic."

She turned to face them, and she said, "Alright, I've already checked the map, and the only thing up here is a log cabin holiday inn. If we get there fast enough, we might be able to save some civilians which is what you do best, right?"

Sam nodded as Dean replied, "Right. So what do we do?"

Hermione knew her next proposal wouldn't be well received, so she braced herself. "Well, I'd like for you to take care of getting the civilians out of the way."

Dean stared at her with a strange frown, and then said, "Excuse me?"

Taking a quick breath, Hermione said, "These witches are dangerous. I'll distract them while you two get the people out."

"I didn't hike all this way to save some damn tourists," Dean said, taking a step towards her, his eyes flashing angrily.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't just run in there, all guns firing," Hermione said. "You have to trust me on this. These witches and wizards are out of your league."

"You don't even need us, then?" Dean asked, voice raised. "Why are we here at all?"

"Dean, stop," Sam began to interrupt him, but Dean didn't listen to him.

"No, Sam, I'm sick of this," he snapped, turning to glare at his brother. "I'm sick of this, and we're wasting our time being here. I mean, seriously, I don't get why she needs us here at all."

Hermione swallowed her angry response and she said, "Dean, I need your help."

He blinked, before raising his eyebrows as though inviting her to dig a bigger hole.

"I need you to help me," she said again. "I can't take care of the Death Eaters and get the tourists out at the same time."

"And why not?"

"I can't just go running in there asking everybody to evacuate because of _witches_," Hermione said, exasperated. "Nobody would believe me. They'd call the police."

"So what are you going to do?" Sam asked, frowning.

Hermione grimaced. "Usually, I set fire to something."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Dean said, "You _what_?"

"I set something on fire," she said again. "It gets everybody out, throws the Death Eaters off guard."

"Isn't that kind of dangerous?" Sam asked, looking a little less eager to go along with the plan.

Hermione shook her head, and replied, "No, it'll be fine. I can douse the flames if they get too big."

"You're going to set fire to the hotel?" Dean said, still bewildered by her plan of attack.

"Yes, for goodness' sake!" Hermione exclaimed as she began to trek along. "Stop making me repeat myself!"

* * *

><p>When they finally reached the log cabin inn, the situation was a little further progressed than Hermione had imagined. She could see flashing lights coming from the clearing near the inn, and silhouettes of cloaked figures. She heard a scream, and she felt adrenaline rush through her as she realised they would have to act fast.<p>

"Okay, change of plan," she said over her shoulder to the Winchester brothers. Sam was peering around the other side of the tree and Dean was leaning over her shoulder.

"Party's already started, huh?" Dean asked, as he took the safety latch off his .45, holding it steadily in his hand.

"Apparently so," Hermione replied quietly. She turned to stare at him and she said, "You need to move quickly, Dean. I can only distract them for so long."

To her surprise, Dean didn't taunt her or question her. He simply nodded, dark green eyes totally serious and he said, "We'll go to the emergency exit, it'll be round the back. Sam can direct the tourists out and I'll guard the doors." He glanced around the area, and he said with a small frown, "Just out of curiosity, what is it that you plan on setting fire to?"

Hermione looked back towards the inn, and she said, "The maintenance shed. I've already checked and there's nobody inside. You need –"

Before she could say anything else, Hermione heard the unmistakable casting of the Cruciatus curse, and she heard the strangled screaming of a tortured muggle let loose into the night, mingled with undertones of maniacal laughter of a Death Eater.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Hermione pointed her wand at the maintenance shed and cried out, "_Confringo!_"

A large explosion suddenly tore off one of the walls of the shed, and Hermione saw the flames for a second before she spun, hair whipping around her face as she cried at the Winchesters, "Go, go now!"

They took off, and Hermione sprinted out into the clearing. The explosion had interrupted the concentration of the wizard who had cast the Cruciatus curse, and he turned to stare at the intruder. Hermione quickly counted seven – no, six others standing nearby, and they all reached for their wands when they saw who had arrived.

Hermione didn't bother apologising for gatecrashing as she sent a stunning spell flying towards one of the outliers, saying loudly, "_Stupefy!_", watching as he dropped to the ground, too drunk to counter the spell. She quickly cast another but this time it was deflected, and before she could try again she had to cast a protego shield to prevent several curses which were thrown her way.

It all happened so fast, and she felt the rush of hot, angry blood through her veins as she duelled the Death Eaters. Hermione wasn't nearly as good at duelling as Harry, but she still knew more than the average witch or wizard, and indeed the average Death Eater. And really, that's all these guys were. Garden variety, piss-weak, sloppy Death Eaters.

She disposed of another with a third stunning spell, and she turned and let loose a loud, "_Incarcerous_!" Ropes flew from the tip of her wand, fiercely binding two of the Death Eaters who stood too close together, and they both dropped their wands as they fell to the ground, wriggling uselessly against the bonds as they tightened around their bodies.

Hermione deflected a few other curses, hissing as she was nearly hit by a sectumsempra which she had no time to block with her wand. She spun to the side but it sliced deeply through her calf muscle and she cried out in pain, trying to ignore the blinding pain as she put all of her weight on her other leg, and as she turned back she threw a curse at the wizard who had cut her leg, and he was pummeled backwards by the sheer force of the magic. Hermione didn't even know which spell she had conjured.

There were only two left standing, and as one of them raised her wand to cast a curse, lips open and teeth flashing white in the firelight, Hermione lifted a burning plank of wood from the flames of the shed and cast it towards the witch, who screamed as it broke through her shield and hit her across the neck, and a moment later she fell to the ground, unconscious.

There was only one left, and he glared at Hermione with such anger she nearly cringed. But Hermione didn't shy away from danger. She'd faced Death Eaters scarier than this has-been. She lifted her chin, wand raised and ready to fight.

And then, he spoke. His voice was tight and rasping, and he said with a sick smile, "You've grown since I last saw you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, as she suddenly recognised the man.

"Lestrange," she whispered, and suddenly her hot bravery was replaced by cold, icy fear, memories of her torture by his wife Bellatrix flooding her mind. She tried to keep them out, but she couldn't stop the painful memories from flashing through her mind. The mark on the inside of her arm seemed to sting from the very thought.

Rodolphus Lestrange smiled evilly as he suddenly flicked his wand, casting a curse at her. The duel turned ugly very quickly, crackling spells and curses flying through the air at lightning fast speeds. Rodolphus was a good dueller, and the difference between the two was that Hermione was only trying to capture Rodolphus, while he was trying to kill her.

Hermione was on the defensive, unable to cast any spells between all of the shields she had to conjure to deflect the curses thrown at her. She cried out as she fell over a large root in the ground below her, and she crawled backwards, her chest tight and heart hammering as her wand was ripped from her hand by a disarming spell, and then he stood above her, cold eyes watching and laughing as he kicked her leg, watching her scream in agony.

"It'll be nice to finish off what Bella started," he hissed. He raised his wand, and she could hear the hiss of the killing curse on his lips, and she turned away, trying to reach for her wand, fingernails gripping the dirt...

And then, it all stopped.

* * *

><p><em>Our minds divide, the past repeats; a war still brewing in the hearts of those we once bled. <em>


	11. Chapter 11

Holy Jeezus, this thing has so many reviews! I thank you all for being so fantastic with your feedback. :) The song I chose for this chapter is 'Monster' by Paramore. It was actually the song which inspired this whole story, and I like the sentiment behind it. So please read and enjoy and thankyou again :D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven – Monster <strong>

_I'm only human, I've got a skeleton in me. But I'm not the villain, despite what you're always preaching._

* * *

><p>Her body was slumped on the ground, face pressed to the dirt as Dean ran over to her. He hadn't even thought for a second about what he was doing when he had pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot echoed throughout the clearing and rang in his ears, and for a moment he couldn't hear anything.<p>

And the wizard who had been standing above her had dropped, dead before he had hit the ground, bullet lodged inside of his brain.

Dean quickly made his way over to the witch, placing one hand on her shoulder and shaking her a little as he said, "Hermione – can you hear me?"

She retracted her hand from where it had been covering her face, and her wide brown eyes stared up at him. She tried to move, but her face suddenly contorted and she let out a strangled cry of pain, hands flying to her calf as she bit her lip to hold back tears. Dean could see the blood soaking her jeans.

He didn't bother asking for her permission as he whipped out a switchblade and quickly cut the denim away just below her knee, revealing the deep gash in her leg. Dean swore under his breath before he said, "Alright, we'll get you back to town, the hospital is –"

Hermione shook her head, interrupting him as she said, "No, no – just – my wand, Dean, can you –?"

Dean glanced around, not seeing it the first time his eyes skimmed over it. It just looked like a twig to him. He stepped over to where it lay a few metres away and handed it back to the witch, who closed her eyes and looked like she was taking a deep breath, before she said a quiet spell.

"_Vulnera sanentur_," she said, voice strained a little. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a small sound in the back of her throat. Dean blinked, making sure he was seeing properly as he watched the gash pull itself back together, from the muscles beneath to the skin above. Hermione's breathing became a little ragged as she groaned, "Sweet Merlin, that hurts." She glanced down at the large pink and yellowish scab on her leg, still weeping slightly. She flicked her wand at it, causing bandages to fly out and wrap themselves neatly around the leg, tight enough to keep the pressure on but not too tight to cut her circulation.

Dean's wide eyes watched as Hermione let herself fall back down to the ground, her chest rising and falling. Unable to think of anything clever to say, he simply said, "That's just weird."

To his surprise, a tired smile tugged at Hermione's lips, but she didn't say anything in response. Instead, she looked at him and she said, "Do you have a phone I can borrow?" He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and handed it to her. The witch quickly dialled a number, holding it to her ear, waiting for a moment before somebody picked up.

"Hi, Cooper," she said. "Can you send a recovery team out to Rexburg in Idaho? … Yes, the Death Eaters... I'll need some muggle control – yeah, you'd better send Germaine. Call Azkaban for me, tell them we've got six more coming their way… only six, yeah. Thanks."

She hung up and handed it back to Dean, and said quietly, "Thanks."

Hermione pushed herself up off the ground, and she used her good leg to get upright, tentatively leaning on her other leg. Dean stood up and he quickly slipped his arm under hers and around her torso, and she glanced up at him with a strange frown as he helped keep her upright.

"Dean, are you –?"

"Yes, I am helping you," he sighed. He didn't bother trying to explain as they wandered back over to the inn, because even he wasn't sure why he was being so nice.

He looked at her and he could see how tired she was, in the way her eyes drooped slightly and in her shallow breathing. She was exhausted. As they walked past the burning shed, Dean had to stop himself dropping the witch when she cast a spell to put the fire out, a stream of water shooting from her wand like a fire hose. He had to stop getting such a shock whenever she used her magic.

Dean set her down on the front porch of the inn, and said, "You okay?"

She shrugged. "I have had better days but I'm okay." She glanced over her shoulder as she heard shouting coming from the back of the inn. "Is Sam still out there?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I think so. There's a barbeque area out the back where we got all the people."

Hermione looked like she was about to say something else, when there was suddenly a loud crack, and four people appeared out of nowhere, standing not far away in the clearing. Dean instantly drew his gun again, aiming it at them, but Hermione stood and placed a gentle hand on his forearm, lowering the weapon.

"It's okay," she said. "They're with me."

The newcomers wandered over and the guy leading them, a broad-shouldered man with dark blonde hair, smiled as he saw Hermione. "Evening, Granger," he said, a little too cheerily for Dean's liking. "I take it this one didn't go so smoothly?"

Hermione sighed. "Not quite. This party was led by Lestrange. A little more difficult than I had anticipated."

"You should have called for help."

To Dean's surprise, Hermione shook her head and with a small smile she replied, "I had all the help I needed," before she glanced up at him. "Eli, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Elijah McEwan, he works with me at the embassy."

Dean and Elijah simultaneously gave each other the once-over. Dean could see Elijah was a pretty solid guy, someone who walked with confidence but had a certain level of politeness which Dean was devoid of.

Elijah gave him a friendly smile, and said, "I've heard a lot about you, Dean. You and your brother are hot-shot hunters."

Dean kept a blank expression as he simply nodded his thanks. Hermione introduced the other three as Lucy, a small woman with short, spiky dark hair and high cheekbones, Germaine who looked a little too small and twig-like to be of any help whatsoever, and a man named Joe who looked like he could fight grizzly bears without pulling a muscle.

"Joe is a guard at Azkaban," Hermione explained. "It's a prison."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You guys have prisons?"

"Gotta lock the bad guys up somewhere," Joe said, smiling with his slightly crooked teeth before he and Lucy wandered over to where the Death Eaters were scattered, most still out cold but the two who were tied together still struggling uselessly against their bonds. Joe knocked them out with a quick flick of his wand.

Elijah directed Germaine towards the muggles, and when Dean asked what was going to happen to them, the wizard said, "Just a quick memory charm, maybe a few _confundus _spells to keep them under control."

Dean glanced sideways at the man, who seemed very calm about all this, and Elijah laughed at Dean's expression of uncertainty. "Don't worry," he said. "We do this all the time. Saves having to explain what actually happened. People don't usually believe you when you tell them magic happens."

"I know how that feels," Dean muttered. He turned to see Hermione resting against the wall of the cabin, eyes shut as she rested.

"Thank you," said Elijah, and Dean turned back to look at him as he spoke. "She's a fantastic witch. And she's a really great girl. I know most hunters don't like us much, but it means a lot that you do. Though I must admit, I didn't expect it from you."

Dean was about to explain that no, he did in fact not like witches at all, but he realised that all the while he'd been talking with Elijah he didn't even register that he was an abnormal magical being, just like Hermione. It hadn't even occurred to him that he was meant to be sticking by his principles, not helping or, god forbid, casually chatting with a wizard, saving the life of a witch.

And yet it didn't bother him.

So Dean simply nodded, and he said, "Don't mention it."

Elijah wandered off to help Lucy and Joe, and not long after, Sam and Germaine appeared from around the back. Hermione opened her eyes when she heard their talking, and as they arrived at the front of the house she asked Germaine if it was finished.

"All taken care of," said the scrawny man. "They're all under the impression that there was an electrical fire in the maintenance shed."

"You should have seen it, Dean," said Sam, a little too excitedly. "I mean, if we could do that, it would make jobs so much easier. Not having to explain to people all the details, not being called crazy every other day." He looked at Hermione and said, "You guys have got this all worked out."

Hermione laughed softly, and she said, "Well, Germaine has it all worked out. He's one of the best."

Germaine went a little red and stammered something about the fire department being on their way before he went off to help the others. Hermione smiled as he went, and she said quietly, "Germaine is a fantastic wizard, but possibly the most socially awkward person I've ever met."

Sam smiled, and Dean sat himself down on the steps, beginning to feel tiredness seep into his muscles. He was pretty worn out. He watched as the other witch and wizards collected up the Death Eaters, and then saw Elijah standing over the one who Dean had shot. Elijah inspected the body, turning him over and Dean saw him flick his head around to look at where they were sitting at the front of the inn.

Elijah grimaced and gave a small nod to the man, and Dean responded with a nod of his own. They both understood it was one of those things that had to be done.

Dean suddenly remembered something he had been confused about, and he turned to look at Hermione. "Hey, what happened over there?" he asked, and she turned towards him. "I mean, one minute you were kicking ass and the next you totally froze up."

Hermione's face fell a little and she brushed the few strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail back behind her ear, and she said, "I knew him."

"Who, the Death Eater?" Dean asked, frowning. "He wasn't one of your friends, was he?"

"No," Hermione said, a little too quickly. "No way. He – his wife was the one who did this to me."

Dean and Sam watched as she pulled up her sleeve, and showed them the word scarred into her skin.

"She tortured me," Hermione said, in a somewhat cold voice, as though she didn't want to have to go into detail. "And when I saw him, I – well, I did freeze up. Like you said. I shouldn't have."

"It's alright, Hermione," said Sam as he crouched down beside her.

She shook her head. "No, it was stupid. If Dean hadn't been there, I – I don't know what would have happened. He might have killed all of us."

Before Sam could interrupt her with more consoling words, Hermione glanced up at him and said politely, "Could you please go get my backpack? I think I left it near the trees."

Sam nodded, striding off to go find her bag, and when he was out of earshot Dean glanced at the witch and said, "You could have done that with magic. You know, like when you stole my keys."

Hermione hesitated before she smiled, and she said, "Well, I wanted to thank you without an audience. I don't usually have to thank other people for saving my life, mostly it's the other way around."

Dean knew that feeling. He hated having to rely on other people, when he knew he could look after himself just fine. He shook his head. "Nah, don't worry about it –"

"Really, Dean," Hermione said, interrupting him. "I – I know how difficult this has been for you, having to work with me. A lot of other hunters in your position wouldn't have done what you did. And I – I owe you one."

Dean didn't know what to do, so he simply shrugged. "Forget it. I figure – well, even though you're a witch, I'm pretty certain you're not evil. You would've killed me by now."

Hermione smiled a little at his response, but then Dean added, "But that doesn't mean I like you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? Well I don't think highly of you either." They shared a smile before Hermione said, a little more seriously, "Do you ever think we could work together?"

Dean glanced at her, and then he made a small grimace. "I dunno. I mean, you'd be great, but – it's not in my system to trust witches." He shrugged before adding, "Maybe we could work on a hate-based system, rather than a trust-based system."

Hermione nodded, and she said, "A working relationship built on mutual hate. I like it."

As they fell into mutual, calm silence, Dean realised then that he and Hermione weren't really so different. Trusting her might take him a while, but relying on her for help wasn't out of the question. After all, they were both trying to save the world from evil and monsters. Even if she was unbearable, bossy and frustrating, she wasn't the wicked witch of the west.

Maybe of the north, but not the west.

* * *

><p><em>I'll stop the whole world, I'll stop the whole world from turning into a monster, and eating us alive. Don't you ever wonder how we'd survive? Now that you're gone, the world is ours.<em>


	12. Chapter 12

****This chapter isn't entirely necessary but it explains Hermione's situation for the past few years after having left England and it clears up some of the details that I, for one, was unsure about when I started this story. I sort of understand that there's not much plot development but in my own opinion it's important in its own right.

That said, if you don't like it, that's cool too :D there will be more plot and drama next chapter. This song is 'Kathy's Song' by Simon and Garfunkel. Thanks for reading :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve – Many Miles Away<strong>

_And from the shelter of my mind, through the window of my eyes, I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets to England where my heart lies…_

* * *

><p>The combination of murmuring voices, coffee machines, a radio playing in the background and the scratching of pen on paper was Hermione's background noise at the Ministry of Magic's American Embassy.<p>

Working with American witches and wizards was so different to working in Britain. The first main difference was the lack of quills. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had written anything down with a pen or a pencil, but she learned pretty quickly how to go about it. It was just one of those traditions that hadn't caught on in the 'new world', Elijah's term for the American wizarding community.

The other significant difference was the office space. While the Ministry of Magic was a huge place with a maze of elevators and forgotten rooms, with hundreds of departments and offices, the Embassy was rather small. It was actually located in an abandoned subway station, 18th street on the IRT Lexington Avenue line. The platform had been closed because the introduction of 10-carriage trains and faster train services negated the need for an extra station on the line.

So in the late 1940's when the station closed, the Ministry of Magic shifted their Embassy from an abandoned factory in Queens to an abandoned subway station. There was a lower chance of muggles stumbling upon their office in an abandoned station.

There was extensive spellwork and defensive charms placed upon the station, so that passersby on the subway see only a graffiti-stained, abandoned station, while it had actually been modified into a rather cosy little office. Disillusionment charms also helped keep muggles out, and a fireplace had been installed to allow for access to the floo network. A wind barrier had been put up to keep the rush of air from the trains making a mess of all the paperwork.

And Hermione had a little cubicle in the south-east, the Magical Law Enforcement corner, along with Elijah and a few others. In the north-west corner was the Regulation of Magical Creatures department, where Lucy had her cubicle. The south-west was reserved for Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, as well as Magical Artefact Recovery. The north-east was for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, where Germaine worked along with a few other recovery workers and healers.

There was also a small circle-like desk in the centre where about a dozen workers controlled the entire operation, and also took care of transportation and international co-operation, where Hermione's friend Cooper worked.

The 18th street platform wasn't a very big place, there would only be about eighty or ninety people in the office at the one time. As far as Hermione could tell, the magical population of America was rather small, under seven thousand at the last census, and even then it was difficult to count because many British witches or wizards would go to America for a sea-change. Many Death Eaters, too.

Technically, Hermione wasn't supposed to have chased those particular Death Eaters, because she was still finishing up the report on her last mission, but Kingsley had specifically asked that Hermione be put on the job because he was the only one she trusted with such a serious mission. The American aurors were good at their job, but they were mostly caught up with black magic witches. Death Eaters were a whole other kettle of fish and very few at the Embassy had as good an idea as Hermione of how to deal with them. She was probably the best dueller at the Embassy, come to think of it.

And besides all of that, having the Minister for Magic as a referee always got you the good jobs, thought Hermione as she put down her pen to have a sip of her tea. She was feeling a little bored as of late. Due to her injury, though it wasn't particularly serious, she was still limping slightly and Elijah was concerned that if she overworked it, she wouldn't heal as fast.

Hermione was annoyed by that but to be fair, she had a hell of a lot of paperwork to do. Staying in the office for a week couldn't hurt.

She had to write statements addressed to the Wizenagamot in Britain, going through in detail the crimes committed by the Death Eaters. She could put names to their faces now that they had been identified, so it was fairly simple to figure out who had committed which crime, based on witness reports from the muggle police and security camera videos.

Hermione also had to write a mission report, detailing what happened in the investigation, and also a casualty report. None of the other Death Eaters were seriously injured apart from Lestrange, and quite frankly nobody at the Embassy or the Ministry was particularly bothered about his death.

"_He would have rotted in Azkaban anyway_," Harry had said to her over the phone when he called to find out what happened. Kingsley had obviously told him that Hermione had been involved in a Death Eater investigation and he had immediately called to make sure she was alright, to which Hermione had called him a loser and told him to get back to work, and he did so but only after he made her promise she'd come visit sometime soon.

Despite all of her love for America, Hermione sometimes missed the perpetual cloudiness of London and the bustling streets of London, as well as all of the sights and sounds down Diagon Alley. New York was wonderful but sometimes it seemed so full on that Hermione wished she could be back in suburban England or at the Burrow, basking in silence.

But then she remembered that she had work to do.

* * *

><p>Later on in the day, after another few cups of tea, Elijah turned up at her desk with a chicken wrap and chocolate pastry from a muggle deli not far from the station.<p>

"All that writing, you must be getting hungry," he said, passing her the paper bag with the food in it. He worked in the desk just across from Hermione, and he'd started taking pity on her in the last week, saying it was too depressing to watch her hobble around to get lunch.

Hermione used her wand to turn her ten dollar note into a tiny plane which flew itself over and landed on his desk. "Thanks, Eli," she said, not realising how very hungry she was until she took the first bite, and within ten minutes both the wrap and the pastry were gone.

Hermione and Elijah had become good friends since Hermione had arrived a few years ago. He was an American but his mother, who was British, was a witch. He had been schooled with a few others by a man named Cliff Shelley, a wizard from Philadelphia who taught magic. Shelley had been trained as a professor in Britain but moved to America after the first wizarding war.

He must have been a very good professor, Hermione often thought. Most of the American wizards and witches she knew had been taught by him, and Elijah could give Hermione a run for her money when it came to charms.

He laughed at her when she finally slumped back in her seat, hands on her stomach as she digested her lunch. "Don't make yourself sick, Granger," he said jokingly.

Hermione grinned. "Unless you plan on buying me a slice of cheesecake, I'll be fine. God, what with all your New York cupcakes and cheesecakes, no wonder I've put on the pounds."

"You're as skinny as the day you arrived," said Elijah. "Anyway, we've got more pressing issues to worry about."

"Like what, my imminent food-baby?" Hermione joked, but Elijah stood and dropped a few more blank report sheets on her desk.

Hermione groaned. "More reports? Whatever for now? I've already done the statements, the mission report, I _just _finished the casualty report, Eli –"

"This is one you haven't done before," he said, interrupting her.

She frowned at Elijah, wondering what sort of report she couldn't have filled out in all her years at the Embassy, and then she saw the top line of the report. It read, 'Application For Registration Of Muggle Hunters', and the other one below read, 'Application For Imbursement For Muggle Hunters'.

"Oh right," she muttered. "Because I've never worked with hunters before."

"You might want to wait to submit those ones, though," said Elijah as he sat back down. "You need the applicant's signature, and you're in no state to be chasing after the Winchesters."

Hermione made a 'pfft' noise at the wizard, and she said, "I'm in a perfectly fine state, thank you very much. I can walk without crutches now."

As she folded and tucked the paperwork away in a small zip at the top of her extension-charmed purse, Elijah rolled his eyes. "You're going to find them, right now?"

Hermione nodded as she picked up her mobile phone and dialled Sam's number. "I certainly am," she said, "Now shut up, I'm on the phone."

* * *

><p>Sam was sitting down in a booth at a lunch bar when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see Hermione's name flashing on the screen. He quickly pressed the answer button and said, maybe a little too eagerly, "Hey, Hermione!"<p>

"_Hey, Sam, how are you_?" she asked, her voice a little crackly in the phone.

"Yeah, not bad – have you got bad reception? The line's a bit dodgy," he said, turning up the volume to hear her better.

"_Mmm, yeah. The Embassy's underground so mobile service isn't the best, but it works._"

"So how are you?" asked Sam, looking over his shoulder to where Dean was waiting in line to order his second milkshake and a chips and gravy. "How's the leg?"

Hermione laughed a little morbidly. "_Hah. The leg has been fine, my pride is more wounded than my flesh. My _colleagues_ have been giving me a hard time for it._" She emphasised the word 'colleagues' and Sam could hear a voice in the background, and though he couldn't quite discern what he was saying he could tell it was offended.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, well they probably don't get much of an opportunity to make fun of you."

"_Still doesn't justify it_," she said. "_Anyway, I was calling to see if you wanted to catch up. I've got some forms for you to fill out, if you're interested._"

"Forms?" Sam repeated. "What sort of forms?"

"_A registration form and an imbursement form,_" said Hermione. "_For you and Dean. The registration basically means you'll be on the list of hunters who can assist in investigations, provide information and tackle some of the critters, and the imbursement form_ –"

"Means we get paid," said Sam, frowning as he thought about the pros and cons of being registered. "Well, I'll probably have to talk to Dean about it, and then have a think. He won't be keen on the registration, but he'll want the money."

"_Tell him he can't have the money without being registered_," she said.

"Alright," Sam said. "Can I give you a call back? I'll convince him to sign up, and then you can meet us tonight, and maybe hang out for dinner…?" Sam let the last sentence linger, wondering if he'd be able to convince Dean to let Hermione come, and if he'd be able to convince her to come at all.

"_Absolutely_," she said, and Sam couldn't help but grin.

"Awesome," he said. "I'll call you back soon, Hermione."

"_Okay. Talk soon_."

Sam couldn't quite help the small smile that pulled at his lips as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. He'd been wondering when he'd be able to see Hermione again. He sat up as Dean came back over with his chips in his left hand and his milkshake in his right.

"Man, I love these chips," he said as he sat down, not hesitating to throw a few in his mouth straight away, not caring about how very hot they were.

"Guess what, Dean?" Sam said.

Dean frowned thoughtfully for a moment before he replied with a mouthful of potato and gravy, "You're gay."

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, idiot. I just spoke to Hermione on the phone. I've got some awesome news."

This time, it was Dean who rolled his eyes. "Oh, fantastic. I was wondering how long it'd be before she screwed with our business again."

Though he was sceptical, Sam noticed the slight hesitation before his brother responded, the slight twitch of his lip at Hermione's name. It wasn't much but it was enough to let Sam know there was something about the witch that was getting on Dean's nerves, and not in a bad way. Like Dean actually _liked _her but he was too proud to admit it.

Sam smiled knowingly, before he said, "As I was saying, I've got good news. Hermione's got some forms for us to fill out so we can get paid by the Embassy."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Serious?"

"Dead serious," Sam replied. "It means every time we work a job with Hermione, we'll get paid."

And Sam watched a half smile settle on Dean's unshaven face for a moment before he shrugged and said, "Yeah, well they'd want to pay us for having to work with a woman like that."

The younger Winchester felt a little smug knowing that his brother secretly liked the witch, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. He quickly redialled Hermione's number to organise catching up with her later on that night.

* * *

><p><em>So you see I have come to doubt all that I once held as true. I stand alone without beliefs, the only truth I know is you…<em>


	13. Chapter 13

Hey kiddies :) this is really annoying, the uploads thingy wasn't working and yesterday was Australia Day and this chapter's a little short but it still works. Hope you like :) this song is 'Closer' by Tonight Alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen – Closer<strong>

_So I'm just begging for a breakdown sometime real soon, cause I don't know what else is there left to do._

* * *

><p>Later on that night, in the dodgy little hotel room they'd been staying in for the past few weeks as they searched for Ava, the Winchesters were watching bad weeknight sitcoms as they waited for Hermione to arrive. Sam half expected her to just appear out of thin air in the middle of their room, so he was a little surprised when she knocked at the door.<p>

"Hello," she said, smiling up at him as he opened the door for her. She had a small box in her hands as she stepped inside. Sam closed and latched the door before following her in.

She glanced at Dean sitting back on the bed, flicking through channels. He glanced at her as she said, "Evening, Dean."

He gave her the once over, before looking at the box in her hands. He tipped his chin upwards and said, "What's that?"

Hermione glanced at the box. "Oh, this?" she said, innocently. "This is just a New York cheesecake, they flog them for cheap at the end of the day and I figured I'd bring it around as a peace offering."

Dean grinned and hopped up off the bed. "Haha, yes! Peace offering accepted."

Sam glanced at Hermione and rolled his eyes, and she simply laughed. "Well, it's sort of a proper thank-you, as well. For helping me out and all."

Sam was about to thank her but Dean cut him off, shaking his head as he said, "No, it's gotta be one or the other." When Hermione frowned, confused, he explained further. "I mean, a peace offering is for future arrangements. A thank-you gift is for past arrangements. If you want it to be both you should have brought two."

Hermione stared at him with a certain level of animosity as Dean said, "So if you bring another one around tomorrow, I'm sure we can make this work."

"If you're going to be like that, you can buy your own bloody cheesecakes," she said, pulling the cheesecake away from him as he reached for it. He frowned at her as she raised her eyebrows, daring him to give it his best shot. She could see he wanted to just snatch it from her but he could also see her wand on the inside of her jacket, and she could see how torn he was.

"C'mon, Hermione," he said, his voice a little desperate. "I'm starving. I'll sign your stupid forms, just give me the cake."

"You're such a child," she sighed, before handing him the box. That said, how could she argue with his logic? He had pretty much just sold his services to her without even realising, and she was totally willing to take advantage of his weakness for cake.

Or food of any sort, apparently, she thought as she glanced around the room at the various pizza boxes and fried chicken-buckets, empty and left in a pile near the bin. She raised an eyebrow before taking out her wand and doing a quick clean of the room, watching as various cheeseburger wrappers and empty cans lifted themselves up and neatly compacted themselves into the small bin.

Sam made a whistling sound as Dean's eyes flicked warily back to her wand.

"That's so handy," said Sam, still in awe of every tiny spell Hermione cast.

Dean shot a look at his brother, and said, "I don't care how damn handy it is, it still creeps me out."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at him. Even she wouldn't have been frightened of a simple tidying spell when she was a muggle. When Dean stared at her strangely, she said, "Oh, don't worry. It's just so funny that you're adamant about hating magic."

"Well it's not like I've spent my entire life hunting the supernatural or anything," he muttered, wandering over to the table to sit down and take a big slice out of his cheesecake.

Sam managed an awkward smile before he said, "Sorry about him. How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you Sam," said Hermione, returning the smile. "How have you been? Fought any big scary monsters lately?"

She was a little alarmed when he grimaced. "Sam," she said, tone turning serious. "What's wrong?"

"It's – uh, it's nothing really," he said. "Well, it is, but – I don't know if there's anything you can do about it." Hermione only had to stare at him with raised eyebrows for him to continue explaining. "About a week ago, maybe a few days after we finished that job with you, we had a run in with this girl named Ava. She – well, she's gone missing. We're looking for her."

"Do you have any idea why?" Hermione asked, wandering over to sit down on one of the beds as Sam sat on the other.

He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again, as though he was searching for the right words. "I – I do know why, but it's complicated," he said. "I don't know if I ever told you that I – I've got demon blood?"

Hermione nodded. "You did mention that, yes. I was a little unsure what that means but I didn't bother asking, you two weren't that fond of me back then."

"I'm not that fond of you now," said Dean through a mouthful of cake, across the room. "But – if you keep bringing cake, I could get used to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, before turning back to Sam as he went on. "The thing is, Ava's got demon blood too. And I – we think she's been abducted because of that."

Slowly nodding, Hermione tugged on a strand of hair as she thought through the issue. "I could file a missing person's report at the Embassy if you like, but she's not a witch so I'm not sure –"

"No, it's okay," Sam said, hurriedly, causing Hermione to blink in surprise. He was quite distressed. "Don't do that. We can handle it."

"Alright," she said, unable to stop herself from frowning. "But can I ask why not?"

Sam clenched his teeth, before he stared at his hands, wringing them together. "It's because – because the demon who took Ava is probably the same demon who killed my mother, and my girlfriend. And it will kill anybody else who tries to hunt it down."

Hermione was still as she heard Sam's voice grow tight as he spoke. She had known about their mother, but she had no idea about his girlfriend. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't," he said, hesitating for a moment before glancing at her bag. "You said you had forms?"

* * *

><p>It was a little later on, after Dean had finished off three slices of cheesecake and said he was saving the rest for later, that the forms were all signed and complete. Sam was meticulous and he was very careful about reading the fine print.<p>

Hermione had also taken it upon herself to tick a few of the boxes before she had arrived. One of the major boxes was the 'job description' box. Usually, hunters who worked for the ministry were given contracts. However, Hermione had made it so that instead of being at the Ministry's disposal at all times, the brothers would be 'freelance' hunters, who were able to be called upon for help but also at liberty reject any job offers.

"That way, you won't have to work with witches and wizards you don't trust," Hermione had explained, when Sam had asked about the difference.

Hermione was a little worried about Sam as they went through the forms. After the demon had been brought up, he had been quite cold and distant for the rest of the night, and when it was time for Hermione to leave he didn't ask her to stay for coffee or cake. He simply said thank you and then that he was tired and he was going to have a shower.

Hermione frowned as she watched him walk off to the bathroom, tossing his khaki jacket on the bed on his way out.

"Looks like you hit a nerve there," said Dean, leaning back in his chair with a can of beer in one hand. "That said, you're a witch, it's hard to be nice all the time."

Hermione turned towards him, glancing at his slightly bloated stomach and the beer, the dirty plate and fork on the table. "Why aren't you the size of a house already?" she shot back, not feeling like playing any of his stupid games.

Dean feigned being hurt as he put one hand on his abdomen. "Oh, sweetheart, that's low," he said, dripping sarcasm from his voice.

"I thought I told you not to call me that," Hermione muttered, gathering her things into a bag. She just wanted to be back in her apartment in New York, listening to the sounds of the city instead of the sounds of a self-indulgent idiot.

"What, sweetheart?" he asked, unable to stop the smile on his face. "Don't you like it?"

"Not coming from you," she said bluntly, before she stood up properly and she said, "Look, I don't have time for this."

"No time for me? That's mean."

"No time for the stupid banter," she sighed. "And I should be gone before Sam gets out. He probably doesn't want to see me still here."

As she was reaching for her wand, Dean stood up and put his plate and fork in the sink, and he said, "It's not your fault Jessica's dead, Sam just doesn't like to talk about it."

"I know," Hermione said, frowning. "I just – I don't know. It seems that every time I make progress with you two, I seem to mess it up again. I just want you to be able to trust me and be able to work with me but I can't seem to get it right."

Dean turned, and leaned against the kitchen bench. "When was the last time you met a guy who's girlfriend was set on fire by a demon?"

Hermione, slightly taken aback, shook her head after a moment of hesitation. "Never," she replied.

"Exactly," said Dean. "You're not the problem. Sam is in a bad situation and you just happened to meet us halfway through our crazy demon chase. And Sam doesn't want your help not because he doesn't like you – I mean, he hasn't shut the hell up about you since we met you – he wants to keep you safe. Everybody who goes after this thing gets annihilated."

Hermione digested this information, and then she said, "So why are you going after it?"

Dean shrugged. "Got nothing better to do."

In a rare moment, Dean smiled at Hermione and she smiled back. For one moment they could just pretend that Dean trusted Hermione and that she liked him at all, and then the moment passed and they remembered they were supposed to be hating each other.

Hermione cleared her throat, and she said, "Will you tell Sam I'm sorry, and that I never meant to cause any bad memories to arise?"

"Do I get paid for being messenger boy?"

"No."

"Then I will do it out of the kindness of my heart," he said, quite seriously.

Hermione scoffed. "There _isn't_ any kindness in your heart."

"There is, just none for you, sweetheart."

Hermione didn't even bother to get angry about the name-calling, simply sighing heavily before she apparated out of the room.

It was only when she got back to her small apartment in New York and after she had thrown her bags on the table, shrugged off her jacket and fallen down in a starfish shape on her bed with a goofy smile on her face that she realised she quite liked it when he called her that.

_Sweetheart_.

She blinked, Dean's voice echoing in her head for a moment before she shook it away and forced herself to be rational once more.

* * *

><p><em>It's like we just can't win, and every time we get a little closer it all caves in. <em>


	14. Chapter 14

****Hey kids :) sorry this took a while, I'm writing a few other stories at the moment and I got a job so I have been away from the keyboard a bit more than usual... anyway, thanks for reading and as per usual, thanks for your amazing reviews :) this song is 'Skeptics and True Believers' by The Academy Is... .

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen – Sceptics and True Believers<strong>

_You're selfish, and I'm sorry. When I'm gone you'll be going nowhere fast._

* * *

><p>It was one of those nights when the sky was blanketed by clouds and the moon and stars were nowhere to be seen, and the darkness was thick and cold. Dean had an angry frown on his face, and Sam was worried that if he frowned for much longer it might never go away.<p>

"You okay?" he asked his older brother.

"I'm fine," hissed Dean as he leaned his back against the tree. "I just don't know why we need a damn witch to help us get rid of a poltergeist."

"Because she can stop anything it throws at us," Sam whispered back. "Not to mention we're getting paid."

Somehow Sam didn't think that his reassurance was that helpful for his brother. Dean was determined to hate Hermione even though she hadn't done anything wrong yet. She had been nothing but great help and good company and she had even brought him a cake, but as soon as anybody mentioned bringing her into a job, Dean would throw his hands up in the air and yell about dark magic and trustworthiness and principles and 'what would dad think of this?' and all the rest.

Quite frankly, Sam was so tired of his moaning and groaning he had invited Hermione on the hunt without consulting Dean first, and then told his brother when he started getting upset that they could do perfectly fine without him and he was welcome to not come along.

To which Dean had replied with an unhappy grumble along the lines of, "I'll come along, just in case I get a chance to shoot her in the head."

Sometimes he acted like such a child. Sam knew if his brother wasn't so stubborn about not trusting witches, he would have tried to sleep with Hermione. Somehow knowing she was a witch made Sam that little bit more amused at his brother's struggle between his upstairs and downstairs brain, because if she was a human Dean would love her and leave her, but because she isn't human Dean has to think deeply about how he feels for her and dig through all the complicated matter in his brain.

It made Sam feel a bit smug. For somebody so careless and nonchalant about relationships, this particular relationship was incredibly difficult for Dean to wrap his head around. Which was why Sam was inclined to reign in his growing attraction to the witch in order to see whether Dean and Hermione would ever progress. He knew Hermione would be practically perfect for him, due to the fact they were both hunters in their own right and like Dean, Hermione had no interest in the 'apple pie' lifestyle.

That said, their conversations rarely went for long before turning into arguments and they hardly looked at each other without a glare or a frown. But Sam was curious to see if they could get over their stubbornness and get along, maybe even like each other.

Sam was mulling over the possibilities of his brother and the witch being together when Hermione arrived, not appearing out of nowhere for once but actually walking to meet them.

"Hey Hermione," Sam said quietly as she came closer. "No magic transportation tonight?"

She shrugged. "It makes a loud noise and I didn't want to let the poltergeist know I'm here. Besides, I ate curry for dinner and it does not taste as nice the second time around."

Sam cringed and Dean said flatly, "That's disgusting."

"So is apparating on a full stomach," she said.

"So how did you get here?" Sam asked, as he and Dean began to prepare the small bags of hoodoo to put in the walls, the nifty trick they had learned from Mississippi with the last poltergeist.

"I flew," she said simply.

Both the Winchesters paused in their movements before Sam said, "On your broomstick?"

"Nope, on a dragon," she said. She looked up to see both brothers staring at her with such bemused faces that she grinned and said, "I'm joking. There aren't any in America anyway."

Sam frowned, glancing up at her again and wondering what she meant by 'not in America' but Dean cut him off, saying, "Alright, enough of your bullshit. Has Sam run you through the game plan?"

Hermione nodded as she replied, "Yeah, I have to protect you from flying knives and televisions and such while you put the bags in the four corners of the house." She took her wand out of her back pocket and she said, "I can probably punch the holes in the walls for you as well, if you like."

To which the brothers both pulled out their hatchets and Dean said, "No need, sweetheart."

Dean looked like he was about to head over to the house when Hermione said, "Wait, Dean – I need to cast the protection spells."

He flinched at the word 'spells' and gave her a disparaging look. Sam rolled his eyes, preparing for the onslaught, but Dean simply said, "No."

A moment of silence passed before Hermione said, "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"No as in, no I do not want your magic protection," said Dean sharply. "I can handle myself just fine."

Hermione looked like she was about to argue but she shrugged and said, "Fine. Die. See if I care. Sam?" She turned to face the younger Winchester. "Would you like some protective charms?"

"I – uh, yeah. Sure."

Sam stood quite still as Hermione lifted her wand and held it steadily in her hand, and she said, "Now, just stand still and I'll be done in a second. There's a few I can use."

She took a small breath, before she said calmly and carefully, pronouncing every word clearly, "_Protego maxima. Fianto duri. Cave inimicum._" She nodded, and said with a small smile, "Done. How do you feel?"

Sam hesitated, thinking about the sensation for a moment. "Tingly."

"Good," said Hermione, "That means it worked." She went on to cast the same spells on herself, before she brushed down her jacket and said, "Alright, Winchesters. Lead the way."

* * *

><p>The poltergeist didn't try anything until Sam began to hack out a piece of the southern wall, at which point a number of letter openers and scissors flew across the room at him and tried to kill him. Dean swore and went to pull his brother out of the way, but there was no need because they simply bounced off him, thanks to Hermione's spell.<p>

Sam's eyes widened as the sharp objects fell to the floor. "Holy crap," he breathed, and Hermione simply grinned.

"Told you it'd work," she said. "Come on, next wall."

The next one wasn't so simple. The poltergeist threw a bookshelf at Hermione and it was only thanks to her quick reflexes that she managed to block it. The poltergeist began to shake the floorboards and furniture and doors, and they could tell it was starting to get pissed off.

It was even less friendly when they walked past the couch and it slammed Dean into the wall. He groaned loudly from the pain, and Sam rushed back to try and pull the couch away, saying, "Dean, don't move!"

Hermione simply flicked her wand and said, "_Evanesco_," at which point the couch disappeared and both Winchesters fell to the floor, Dean falling forwards and Sam falling onto his back. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at their misfortune, saying, "Sorry, first spell that came to mind."

"Can you magic the floor so it ain't so hard?" grumbled Dean as he got up and dusted off his hands.

"Come on," she said, ignoring his request. "Northern wall, this way."

They hurried off to the northern wall, which was in a bedroom. Dean was nearly hit by a lamp but he sidestepped and it shattered against Hermione's protective spell with a soft thud. "How unpleasant," she said with a grimace. She was totally confident that she and Sam would be fine, but she was worried that Dean might get hurt, and he wouldn't let her help him.

"Okay, the last one is in the kitchen," she said. "Nobody likes a poltergeist with knives. Dean, will you please let me give you just one small protective spell?"

He shook his head. "No way. I can look after myself."

"Why can't you just – Dean!" Hermione scowled as he walked out of the room, unable to hold back her anger. She stormed after him, saying loudly, "Why can't you just accept my help?"

"Because you're a witch, it's against my nature," he retorted.

They had reached the kitchen and Hermione was about to respond when almost every item in every drawer of the kitchen lifted and began to fly towards them. She barely had seconds to throw up a shield in front of Dean, and even then it he was hit over the head with a cast iron pan, shattering against his skull and he fell to his knees, not quite unconscious but looking quite stunned.

Hermione yelled at Sam to get to the wall, and he ran over, dodging flying knives and pots and pans. She knew it wouldn't hurt him too badly but whenever something shattered or crashed into her, she could feel it like a bruise. It was going to hurt a little bit, but at least they wouldn't die.

The same couldn't be said for Dean. Hermione stood in front of him, casting a number of quick spells and charms over him as well as a protective bubble. She saw Sam struggling to get through the wave of flying objects, so she threw a spell at the wall, yelling, "_Defodio_!"

A small hole was blasted into the wall and Sam quickly pushed through and shoved the hexbag into the wall. A moment later, there was a rush and a screech as the poltergeist was forcibly removed from the house.

And it left in its wake an angry witch.

Hermione turned to face Dean, a fiery anger in her eyes as she stared down at him. He was holding his hand to the wound on his head, where it was slowly bleeding, turning his hair deep crimson.

"You are so infuriating," she said, voice shaking with the fury she was trying to hold back. "I'm here to help you and it's like you want to get yourself killed."

"Don't take it personally sweetheart, I just hate witches," Dean replied groggily as he stood up.

The tendons in Hermione's neck stood out as she yelled at him, not caring that he was that much taller than she was, "What the hell am I even here for if you can't accept my help? Why do I waste my time protecting you when I don't even get thanked at all?"

Dean tipped his head to the side and said in an angry growl, "Trust me, I didn't want you here. I'd be happy to never see you again. I don't need your help and I don't need your protection. I've survived just fine by myself without a god damn witch all these years," he said, stepping closer to shout the last few words.

"Well this is the big league now, Dean," said Sam, trying to help Hermione out. "We need her for this sort of stuff."

"We never needed her before and we don't need her now," growled Dean, turning to glare at his brother, a look that said 'keep out of it'.

"You don't know that," said Hermione, voice raised and higher pitched as she argued. "How can you possibly know that? You would have died if I hadn't been here, and you'll certainly be in situations like this again. I can help you. Why can't you just –"

"Because it's wrong!" Dean yelled, standing over her and shouting right into her face. "You are a witch and if Sammy had killed you like he was supposed to then I wouldn't have to deal with your crap every single day."

Hermione flinched as he said the words and there was a moment of thick silence before she responded, and when she did her voice was quieter and smaller than it should have been.

"If that's how you feel then I'll let the Embassy know," she said bluntly, and then she disappeared, leaving the Winchesters in a room surrounded by awkward and hateful silence.

* * *

><p><em>Would you believe me if I said I didn't need you? Cause I wouldn't believe you if you said the same to me.<em>


	15. Chapter 15

Argh I am so sorry this is late! I got a job and I have been working 24/7 but I have got an actual roster now so I'll have some free time. :) Thanks for reading! This song is 'My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon' by Fall Out Boy. Enjoy :D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen – The Worst Kind Of Weapon<strong>

_I spent most of last night dragging this lake for the corpses of all my past mistakes. Sell me out, the joke's on you. We are salt and you are the wound…_

* * *

><p>The clatter of keys landing on the bench and a heavy sigh were the first sounds Hermione made when she got back to her apartment in midtown Manhattan. The next was the television begin turned on with the evening news, just in case anything interesting happened in the muggle world that day.<p>

It had been a few weeks now since Hermione's debacle with the Winchesters. Well, her debacle with Dean. Sam had still tried to keep in contact with her, calling every now and then to ask how she was or ask for help. The last time he had called was to ask if aliens existed and Hermione had given him a very resolute 'no' to that one. Even she knew aliens weren't real and they certainly didn't get kicks from abducting and probing people.

She sighed, thinking about how fantastically depressing the last few weeks had been. She hadn't caught one creature, always being a step behind and having to clean up carcasses. It just wasn't fun anymore. She'd much rather be with the Winchesters, chasing down demons or whatever it was they were doing. All she wanted to do was help and she'd managed to dig herself a hole she couldn't get out of, and Dean never wanted to see her again.

Hermione took a few deep breaths and forced herself to be reasonable. Dean was a brute and she shouldn't let herself be hurt by what he said because it meant nothing. Did she really have that low an opinion of herself that she needed his support to have confidence in herself? Of course not. She was just fine by herself.

Almost every day for the past month, Hermione had been telling herself the same thing every day. That she didn't need Dean and that she didn't miss Sam, that she didn't want to hear Dean call her sweetheart or wink at her or feel her heart jump when he grinned at her.

She had convinced her mind that she was fine. But her heart was aching and she didn't know how to make it stop.

Hermione wandered over to the fridge and opened it, eyes glancing over some old Chinese take-out boxes and various microwave meals, and she spotted the ciders. She had been saving them for their usual Friday drinks after work, when she and Elijah and Cooper and a few of the others would congregate for general tale-telling and laughs and drinks. But she figured she could always buy more. Or maybe sneak into Dean's fridge and steal some of his. That would be justice enough.

Hermione dumped her bag on the counter and pulled out the ciders and twisted the cap off the first bottle, taking a few quick mouthfuls of the fruity drink. The dry aftertaste and bubbles made her throat feel a little strange but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. Considering she was so used to butterbeer (of which they had none in America) she had done well accustoming herself to muggle alcohol. She preferred the strawberry or blackcurrant cider, which was made in Sweden, but the apple cider had been on special and she figured she didn't want to spend too much money every week on booze.

She took another drink and glanced at her reflection in the window. She looked at the messy hair and her old jeans and daggy sweater and she wished she could look different.

Maybe if my hair was different and I had nicer clothes, and my waist was a bit skinnier and legs a bit longer, Dean might not care that I'm a witch… That was another thought which had plagued her recently. Sure, Hermione was pretty in her own way, but Dean – well, she didn't even want to think about how handsome he was. It was depressing.

Hermione sighed. She had been in the United States for a few years now and she hadn't had a proper relationship. She'd had a few dates with a few guys which hadn't worked, another few one-night stands with guys from bars. She knew Elijah had been interested when they'd started working together but Hermione hadn't recovered from her split with Ron and she was still dealing with her baggage.

Maybe she should go on a date with Eli. Get her mind off Dean. Hermione raised her eyebrows. It wasn't such a bad idea, really. Though they wouldn't go on a date, she wasn't bothered enough for that. She might ask him over for dinner at hers. Oven-baked fish and chips were on the menu tonight.

Hermione picked up her phone.

* * *

><p>"So why'd you invite me over?"<p>

Eli's casual question baffled Hermione for a moment as she was pulling out the fish and chips from the oven. "Oh, I – I dunno, really," she replied. "I guess I was bored and lonely and I figured it'd be nice to have you over. I hardly ever see you outside of work these days."

Eli took a drink of the beer he'd brought around and he said, "Doesn't it get hard for you, living in New York?"

Hermione frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, this isn't your home," he said. "I've been here all my life, I have a lot of friends here. Don't you get lonely sometimes?"

"Of course I do," Hermione replied, using her tongs to serve up the food. "I miss my friends in England a lot. But I guess being here is better for me in the long run because I – well, I moved because I needed a change, and I don't feel like changing back."

"That's fair enough," Elijah shrugged, before taking the plate from her. "Thanks. Looks delicious." He smiled, and Hermione made a small mirthless laugh.

"It looks like crap, but it'll taste okay," she said.

Hermione and Elijah were eating and chatting for about an hour or so, and it was only when Hermione stood up to go put the plates away that she felt a surge of dizziness. It had been a while since she had drunk so much. The last time she was drunk - well, let's just say that she would never be drinking Midori again.

The plates clattered onto the sink and Hermione put one hand down on the bench to steady herself. Elijah noticed that she had paused and he frowned, saying, "Are you okay?"

Hermione smiled at him and she replied, "I'm fine. I just wasn't keeping track of how much I was drinking."

"That doesn't seem like you," he said, standing up to take his empty beer bottle over to the box which served as recycling, glancing at several bottles of cider and the bottle of whiskey they had finished off. Well, Hermione had finished off the whiskey before he'd arrived. "I didn't know you drank whiskey," he muttered.

Hermione turned and saw him looking at the box. "Oh, I - well, usually I don't. It was a present. I'm accustoming myself to the taste."

"That could be dangerous," Eli joked, before taking a few steps towards her. "But really, Hermione, you should lay off the alcohol for a bit. You'll have a bitching headache in the morning."

"Unlike you, I keep my supplies of hangover potions well stocked," Hermione said, indignant as ever. She glanced up at Eli who was smiling at her, amused at her slightly slurred words and her increasing drunkenness. He looked quite close, which hurt Hermione's eyes because she couldn't focus properly.

"Elijah," she managed, before he cut her off.

"You wanted me here because you're lonely, Hermione," he said quietly. "And just because you're smarter than me doesn't make me an idiot."

Hermione took a shaky breath as Eli's fingertips traced a line down her neck, and she tried to speak again. "Eli, I -"

"Are you going to try to explain yourself?" he said, amused. "I already know why. You're lonely because you miss Sam. Or Dean. I don't know which one of them it is, but one of them has got you all messed up."

Hermione froze, shifting backwards slightly, staring at Eli strangely. In her slightly alochol-affected state, she was having trouble digesting that information. She began to think of ways to deny what Elijah had said - about to say that he was wrong, that Hermione had no feelings for Dean (or Sam, for that matter) and she was not inviting him over to fill some sort of hole that the Winchester/s had left in her heart.

But then she realised that it was all true. From the moment she had gone to steal Dean's whiskey and drunk the last quarter of the bottle along with all of her other alcohol, from the moment she had decided to invite Eli over to keep her company, she had confirmed all of the above. She was lonely because the Winchesters had made it so.

And all she could think of to say was, "I'm so sorry, Eli."

Elijah's next smile was a little more forced than the last one, but it was still there. "It's alright," he said. "I think I'd take any excuse to keep you company."

And then he leaned closer and she could see every strand of his dark blonde hair and the tiny lines through his grey eyes and every single pore of his skin and then it all blurred when she felt his warm breath on her skin and -

The phone rang.

Hermione jumped backwards and Elijah stood up straight. She felt her heart begin to hammer and her hands shook nervously as she reached for her mobile on the bench. She frowned and felt another rush of nervousness as she saw the name flashing on the phone.

She answered it and held it up to her ear and she said, "Dean?"

"_Hermione,_" he said, voice crackling down the line. "_I need your help. Sam's missing._"

Hermione felt her stomach twist and a sick feeling creep up her throat. "Oh god," she whispered, before she cleared her throat and she said, "Where are you?"

Elijah moved away to lean against the counter as Hermione spoke on the phone and she recognised the body language - arms folded, lips set in a straight line, eyes on the floor. He wasn't angry, not quite. But it was close.

"_I'm in Nebraska. There's a town here called_ _Blair, I'm at a motel called Bee Line_."

Hermione blinked. "Wait, you want me to go there now?"

"_Sam is missing, Hermione. The only reason I called you is because I'm running out of ideas. I - Christ, saying it is almost painful. But I need your help_." Hermione waited, listening to Dean struggle to get out the words. "_I will never ask for your help again, I know you must hate me. But this is Sam, I can't lose him. Please_."

Hermione felt something on her arm and she turned to see Elijah's hand on her forearm, and his eyes burning into hers as he said quietly, "Don't go, Hermione."

She was very quiet for a moment and she considered the possibility of not going. She could stay in New York with Eli and pretend nothing was wrong, go on working tedious jobs for the embassy and live a normal, simple life - well, for a witch.

But then she heard Dean's voice say her name once more.

"_Hermione_."

There was no question mark, there was no uncertainty. Dean knew Hermione could help her because she wasn't the normal, simple type. She never felt more alive than when she was chasing something big, on the hunt, on the road, and Dean knew that. Even if he hated being around her, he knew her so much better than Eli ever would.

Hermione pulled her eyes away from Elijah and she said, "I'll be there soon."

She hung up, and she began to gather up her things, and she heard Elijah make an aggravated noise from the kitchen as she picked up her bag and grabbed some snacks and water from out of the fridge. "Hermione, you can't be serious," said Eli, grasping onto her arm. "He doesn't deserve your help."

"Maybe he doesn't," Hermione said sharply, "But if I don't help, Sam might get hurt."

She swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat as she threw down a sober-up potion, blinking as the sour taste travelled down her throat, and she coughed. Glancing up at Eli one last time as she picked up her wand, she said, "I'll see you at work, Eli."

And then she disapparated.

* * *

><p><em>Empty another bottle and let me tear you to pieces, this is me wishing you into the worst situations. I'm the kind of kid that can't let anything go, but you wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slit your throat…<em>


	16. Chapter 16

****HOLYCRAP I'm very sorry this took a long time to update, mainly because university just started and I am incredibly short of time. So forgive me please, I love you, read on!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen – Don't Let The Light In<strong>

_Should you accept this mission, collect the fact from fiction, help me trust your mighty wisdom._

* * *

><p>When Hermione arrived at the Bee Line motel she was pleasantly surprised at how very neat and tidy it looked. It didn't seem like Dean's usual haunt, and she wondered if there hadn't been any vacancies at the crappy, alcohol-scented, pay-per-view motel down the road. This place seemed too... sanitary.<p>

Hermione found her way to room seventeen where Dean was staying and as she raised her hand to knock on the door, the door was flung open and Dean stood in the door, looking even more ragged and unshaven than usual.

"I thought you could teleport," he said, voice low and quieter than usual. "What took so long?"

Hermione blinked. "I – I had to pack my bag. Sorry."

Dean stared at her strangely for a moment before stepping aside and indicating she should enter the room. Hermione brushed past him into the quaint little room with black and yellow striped wallpaper and various bee-related objects. The beehive lamp, for example, and the bee-themed tablecloth on the small round table.

"Charming place," she said, not really talking to Dean, simply thinking out loud.

Dean strode through the room to where he had used sticky tape to attach various notes and maps and images to the wall. There were images of Sam on CCTV cameras and credit card receipts all lined up in a sort of timeline. Hermione knew that someone must have been doing some hacking, that or Dean had all of the passwords to Sam's bank account (which she highly doubted - Sam knew better than to trust his brother with money). Hermione watched as Dean traced the scribbled, winding line which reached from Texas up to Iowa.

"This is all of the places he's been," said Dean. "He's been gone three days now and I've put this together – the way I think he's gone."

Hermione concentrated on the map for a moment, before turning back to Dean with a small glimmer of surprise in her eyes. "You did this all by yourself?"

Dean shook his head, not even bothering to take the credit. "Ash helped. He's a friend of mine, hacks computers for the good of mankind and all that crap. He got me these pictures and bank notes."

"That explains why you're here in Nebraska and not in Iowa already," Hermione muttered. She traced her fingertip over the line on the map, trying to figure out where exactly Sam was going. She asked Dean, "Did he say anything to you before he left?"

"Not a damn thing," Dean said. "Last thing he said was 'don't forget the ketchup', and I came back and he was gone."

Hermione frowned. That didn't sound like Sam at all. She made a small noise and she said, "Okay. I can go to some of the towns near Iowa and see if I can find him. I'll make copies of some of these recent receipts," she said, tapping one further to the right.

"Can't you just wave your wand to find him?" Dean asked, his usual arrogance replaced with a certain rigidity which Hermione knew had nothing to do with their falling out, it was just because he was worried about Sam.

"Sorry, Dean, there isn't a spell for that," she said. "I can however get into police computers and CCTV footage without having to hack anything."

"Really?" Dean asked, blinking in surprise. "How?"

Hermione was about to tell him about Veritaserum and memory charms but she hesitated, before simply replying, "I can be very persuasive." She turned back to the wall, and said, "Right, where should I start?"

* * *

><p>Hermione had been to four small towns in Iowa and had managed to narrow down the direction in which Sam was heading and the route he was taking. She hadn't really needed too many memory charms or sleeping potions to get the information she needed – in fact, the nice young policeman in the last town had simply let her in after she told him she was looking for her brother. Sometimes persuasion is the best sort of magic. Or maybe some men just have an unrelenting desire to help damsels in distress. Either way, Hermione had made progress.<p>

She apparated back to the motel room where Dean was still pacing, phone at his ear. He sounded frustrated as he spoke, saying, "Come on, Ash, you gotta give me more. Why can't – well, of course I've tried that. Do you really think I'm an idiot? No, I – I gotta go, I'll call back," he finished up quickly as he saw Hermione standing back in the room. "When did you get there?" he asked.

"About ten seconds ago," she replied. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

Dean replied almost without a pause, "I don't need to eat."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his typical behaviour. "You never stop eating whenever everything is okay but as soon as something goes haywire you don't eat at all," she muttered, throwing down the McDonald's bag on the table. "Eat."

Dean frowned and looked like he was about to protest but then the smell of oily chips and burgers reached his nostrils and he sat himself down to eat. "What did you find?" he asked.

"Some tasty morsels of information," she replied, walking over to the map Dean had up on the wall. "I spoke to a few policemen and motel owners and I have a pretty good idea he might be here – in either one of these three towns, they're about an hour apart. That's the highway he took, anyway."

"Alright," said Dean, and to Hermione's surprise he suddenly stood up, picking up his food and then grabbing his keys.

"Wait! Dean, where are you going?" Hermione asked, rushing after him as he strode outside.

"I'm going to see if I can find him," he said simply. He turned to glance at Hermione, and he said, "Maybe you should wait here."

"Like hell I will!" she exclaimed, about to argue more but Dean placed his hand on her arm which was reaching for her bag on the counter.

She turned and saw the solemn look in his dark green eyes. "No," he said. "This could be dangerous."

"But I –"

"You are a witch, yes, but this could be something very bad, Hermione," he said. "It's not like Sam to act like this and he might be possessed. I – I don't want you to have to see that."

Hermione frowned, unable to comprehend what was happening. Surely Dean would jump at any chance to see her thrown into a dangerous situation – after all, it wasn't like he cared whether she lived or died… did he?

"Just – stay here," he said, a little hesitantly. "I'll call you if I need you, okay?"

Hermione simply nodded and watched him walk out of the door, and knowing she would do as he asked because he needed to be able to trust her. So she wouldn't apparate, she wouldn't do anything of the sort. She'd just stay.

She sat down on the end of the single bed and turned on the small television, and began to wait.

* * *

><p>She didn't recall having fallen asleep but she was woken up by the high pitched ringtone of her mobile. Disoriented, she grappled for it on the bed where she was lying and she said, "Yeah?", her voice a little raspy.<p>

"_God, pick up the first time I call_."

Dean's voice sounded frustrated, but tired. Like he didn't even have the energy to be angry at her.

"Dean," Hermione said, eyes snapping open as she sat upright. "I'm sorry, I – I fell asleep. What's happening?"

"_I found Sam. He's – okay._"

Hermione sighed, her shoulders dropping. "That's a relief. Are you coming back here?"

"_Yeah. Can you have something ready for Sammy to eat when we get back?_"

"Home made or fast food?"

"_It doesn't matter._"

Hermione figured Sam wouldn't mind a burger. "Of course. How long will you be?"

"_A few hours,_"replied Dean.

"Okay," said Hermione. "I'll see you then."

* * *

><p>It was nearly midnight by the time they got back. As soon as Hermione opened the door, she gasped. Dean looked more tired than she'd ever seen him, more worn down. Sam had blood soaked into his shirt and bruises and scratches all over him, and he looked exhausted too.<p>

"Sam," Hermione said, staring at the patches of blood. "What happened to you?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak but then clenched his teeth. "I – I can't remember." He brushed Hermione's hand away from his blood stained shirt and said, "It's okay. It's not my blood."

Hermione frowned. "But – who's is it?"

Neither of the brothers replied as they wandered inside. Hermione swallowed the lump of worry in her throat, watching as Dean threw all of his things down on the floor while Sam wandered over to sit at the small table.

Hermione took a breath and said, "Okay. It's okay. You're safe now." She glanced at Dean who had already grabbed the hamburgers off the bench and put them in the microwave. "Do – do you want me to stay? Or should I go?"

Dean glanced at her, and in that moment she realised that he hated himself right now for having to ask for her help, and Hermione knew that if she didn't get a thanks, she shouldn't be offended. It had taken all of Dean's humility to ask, and he didn't have much of that to spare.

So when his green eyes turned back away and he said, "Yeah, you can stay," Hermione was very surprised.

Unable to think of anything to respond with, she simply nodded and then wandered over to Sam. "Are you alright, Sam?" she asked, pulling up a chair next to him. "Do you want me to help heal anything?"

She reached out to take his hand in hers, turning it over as she checked the nasty cut on his palm, noticing for a moment the strange contrast between their skin, hers pale and his tanned, but then he drew it away and shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he said. "Thanks."

Hermione tried not to let the relieved smile flicker as he looked back up to her. "I'm just glad you're safe," she said, before she saw Dean over Sam's shoulder, and he was beckoning her over in a subtle sort of way, just a quick wave of his hand.

Hermione gave Sam one last smile and gently brushed the hair out of his eyes before she wandered over to where Dean stood in the kitchen. "You alright?" she asked.

"I just need you to make something up for Sam. Something that'll make him feel better."

Hermione blinked, not sure of what she was hearing. "You – want me to make a potion?"

"I – yes."

"You're giving me direct permission to make a potion and give it to your little brother?"

"Yes," Dean hissed, "Christ, you don't have to make a big deal out of it. He's just hurt and I need him back in shape, he can't fight demons like this and we can't afford to go to the hospital. So I need you to help me."

Hermione's lips parted at Dean's whispered outburst, and she turned to see Sam's head turned slightly their way, as though he was trying to listen. She waited till he turned back around before she turned back to Dean, and she replied quietly and calmly, "I won't expect you to thank me."

They both knew it wasn't a snarky comment, it wasn't intended to hurt. Both Dean and Hermione knew that she didn't need thanking because it was hard enough to ask for help as it was without then having to acknowledge the good deed. Besides, after Dean had saved her from Lestrange, she figured she owed him one. Now they could be even, though she had helped them a few times before – somehow, this was different.

Dean nodded, and he said, "You weren't gonna get one anyway." His tone was gruff but she saw a sparkle in his eye that she only saw rarely and she never saw it when he was looking at her.

And she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. The sparkle was for her this time.

So she got out the emergency potions kit she took in her magic little purse and she gave Sam a healing potion, a blood-replenishing potion and finally a sleeping potion, and she and Dean watched in comfortable silence, the first they had ever shared, as Sam drifted off into safe, peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><em>You can take back everything that I owned since we started, just don't let the light in. This is mighty sudden…<em>


	17. Chapter 17

Hey guys, sorry this is taking forever. But here is the next instalment of this fanfiction, thanks to all those who read and especially those who reviewed, you make me smile and inspire me to write more :) this is loosely based around the supernatural episode 14 of season 2 (born under a bad sign). Basically I've been writing the supernatural plot with bits of Hermione in it, cause supernatural hasn't finished yet and I haven't started watching season 7 but I couldn't wait to write a crossover. Haha. So for those who were curious, that's the deal with this setting :) post hogwarts, season 2 spn. Now read on!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen – Life For Hire<strong>

_The detail is striking, the room's cold and frightening. You'll kick and you'll scream, you'll try everything to survive…_

* * *

><p>It was a few days later and Hermione was still with Dean and Sam, staying in their hotel. They had squabbled about who was going to sleep where until Hermione transformed a loaf of bread into a mattress and the problem was solved.<p>

The brothers had been driving around everywhere, trying to follow Sam's trail and figure out what had happened. At Dean's request, Hermione had stayed to make sure that Sam was healing properly. She wasn't sure why Dean didn't want to take him to a hospital but she supposed they simply didn't have the time to spare. Either that or they had run out of fraudulent credit cards.

Hermione was on her way back from shopping at the small supermarket to the motel room with a plastic bag full of bread, ham and cheese in one hand, and a six-pack of beer (requested by Dean) in the other hand, when she saw Sam striding down the hall. As soon as he saw her, his face changed from a fierce concentrating frown to pure worry.

"Oh, Hermione, thank god," he said, walking over to her and taking her bags. "Somebody's hurt Dean, you've got to come quickly."

Hermione felt a cold rush in her veins as she hurried towards their door, and she opened it to find Dean lying on the floor, a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he had been hit.

"Oh, Dean," Hermione breathed, before she hurried over towards him. "Sam, quickly, we need –"

Her sentence fell short as she felt Sam's hand grasp her wrist and pull her back. "Wait," he said, "It could be a trap."

Hermione frowned. "What? Sam, stop, Dean's been hurt. Just –" She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was too tight. "You're hurting me," she said, struggling against him. "Please, Dean needs –"

"Dean will be fine," she heard Sam whisper, his lips suddenly a lot closer to her ear than before, his hot breath washing across her neck. "You should worry about yourself, Hermione."

She felt that same cold fear deep in her stomach as her eyes widened, and she felt Sam's hand grasp her other arm tightly. She had never heard his voice sound like that before – so dark, so unnatural.

"Sam?" she managed, voice shaking as she struggled to release her hands, but achieving nothing.

He chuckled, and said in the same dark voice, "I did say it might be a trap, but you didn't seem to pick up on that."

Hermione felt her breaths becoming shorter as she said angrily, "You – you aren't Sam."

"Oh, but I am," he said, lips at her neck as he spoke, sending chills across her skin. "I'm your dear little Sam, the nice guy. I'm still your favourite."

"No you're not," Hermione spat. "You're not Sam."

She felt his grip on her wrists suddenly tighten, and she cried out in pain. "Come on, darling," he crooned. "I might not be the Sam you know and love but I'm just as good as the real thing."

"No – you're a monster," Hermione gasped through the pain.

"I'm the monster?" he repeated, before Hermione cried out as she was suddenly thrown against the wall, her body collapsing on the floor, hair falling across her face. "I'm not the monster," he went on, and Hermione looked up to see his eyes had turned a horrid, deep black. He leant down in front of her, and took her face in his hand, ignoring her recoil as he said, "You're the monster. You're the witch. And Sam – oh, poor Sammy. He knows you're a monster but he can't bring himself to hate you because you're so clever, and so kind, and thoughtful – and you fill out those jeans _real_ nice, but he's too polite to say so."

Hermione felt herself shaking as those dark eyes stared right into her. He smiled, and it made her sick. "Oh, didn't you know?" he went on, casually. "Sammy wishes sometimes that he could pretend you were a human and just go for it, you know?"

Hermione let out a yell and threw her arms out against Sam, or whatever it was pretending to be Sam, shoving him away from her for a moment so she could leap up, trying to get away, but a second after she had stood she was thrown back against the wall, Sam's hands trapping hers as he towered over her.

"You're a liar," Hermione snapped, "Sam's my friend."

"That's sweet," the demon said with a gentle smile. "Really, it is. But honestly, Sammy is forever torn between tying you to a post and burning you alive, or tying you to a bed and screwing your brains out."

"Shut up!" Hermione yelled.

"Why don't you just ask him yourself?" the demon snarled, and then Sam's lips were crushed against Hermione's, and her eyes were wide as she felt his lips, his tongue, the slight tickle of stubble on her soft skin.

His eyes suddenly shot open, and they weren't black anymore. It was the same familiar, gentle dark green Hermione knew, and she shoved him away, breaking the kiss as soon as she saw it.

"Sam!" she gasped. "Sam, is it you?"

"What – what's going on?" he said, eyes flicking around, confused, and he let his hands fall to her shoulders. "Hermione?"

"Sam, listen to me," she said quickly, nearly stumbling over her words as she held his face in her hands. "You're being possessed, you're not you, there's a demon in you. I –"

Before she could tell him to get it together, his lips were gently pressed against hers. Hermione felt warmth rush through her as his lips moved carefully, and his hands caressed her face, his fingers moving to tangle in her hair.

Hermione barely had time to acknowledge that she should stop him before the demon returned, when she felt Sam suddenly bite her lip very hard and his hands grasp fists of her hair. Hermione cried out in pain, trying to push him away but to no avail.

"You should have seen your face," the dark voice laughed, and Hermione opened her eyes to see the demon's dark orbs staring at her. Hermione could feel blood drip from her cut lip, and she felt her face twitching in anger as she stared at those black eyes.

"You are disgusting," she spat. "And you – you're going to regret this."

"Regret?" the demon laughed. "I have no regrets."

Before Hermione could respond or even try to escape, demon had spun her around, taken a handful of her hair and slammed her head against the wall, throwing Hermione into instant darkness as she fell down to the floor.

* * *

><p>The next thing she knew, Hermione was being gently shaken into consciousness by a pair of hands on her shoulders. "Hey, Hermione. Get up."<p>

She recognised the voice – it was Dean. She tried to open her eyes but when she tried, the sunlight burned them. She moaned in pain, an enormous headache rearing its ugly head and her lip throbbing painfully. Her entire body felt sore and weak.

"Come on, wake up," Dean's voice broke through to her brain. "We gotta go, Hermione, come on."

She forced her eyes open, her vision blurred for a moment before they focused and she saw Dean leaning over her. He looked bad – he had a big red mark on the side of his face.

"Dean," she managed, voice dry and rasping, trying to get up onto her elbows, diving into the explanation as quickly as she could. "It was Sam – he was here, he – he's possessed."

"Yeah, we gotta find him. But we also have to leave before the motel owner decides to charge us any more money. Come on now, get up."

He took a hold of Hermione's upper arms, and he gently lifted her to her feet. Hermione was genuinely surprised at how carefully he moved her. She stood, struggling to find her balance, before she mumbled, "Oh god, he – the demon, it's awful, Sam is –"

"How'd you figure it was a demon?" Dean asked as he threw his things into his bag.

"I – I can't remember," Hermione said, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggled to recall what had happened, rambling in her panicked state. "I think – his eyes. I came back here, Sam said you'd been hurt and I had to help you – and it was a trap. Sam knocked me out. I think he must have hit you, too, because – oh, you're hurt, Dean, you need to let me fix you. I – I don't know where he went."

She had shut her eyes again, trying to wish her headache away. A moment later, she felt Dean take her hands into his, and she opened her eyes to see him examining the blotched blue and yellow bruises on her thin wrists, his fingertips tracing them carefully, before he tipped her face upwards and examined the swelling and bruise on her forehead, gently brushing his thumb over the blood on her bottom lip.

She was surprised at how concerned Dean was. He was usually so – so haphazard, so careless. Especially when it came to her. She was the witch. But here he was, being nice. For want of a better word. He said quietly, "Can you make your way back to the car?"

"What?" Hermione said, disoriented. "I – yeah."

"Okay. Wait there, I have to go make a few calls, try to find where Sam is at." Dean was talking in his action man, no-funny-business voice. He was totally serious. "You go to the car, get the first aid kit, clean yourself up a bit. Or, do your magic stuff, whatever." He looked at her blankly when she didn't respond. "Hey, sweetheart? Did you get all that?"

"Y-yeah," she managed. "Sorry, I – I'll wait in the car."

* * *

><p><em>Watch your back, you'll lose yourself. This is a battleground.<em>


	18. Chapter 18

Hey guys :) again I'm gonna clarify, Hermione's not replacing Jo or any other characters. This story is like Supernatural with Hermione in between scenes. Like she is a part of their story. Cause technically she's the same age as Dean (I checked Wikipedia, awyeah) and I wrote it so that she's moved to America post-hogwarts / post-war, whatever you want to call it, and she's working there now. So yeah, hope that helps :) anyways, enjoy and thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! This song is Fine by Alkaline Trio. Very nice acoustic version of the song on the deluxe CD, fyi... :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen – Fine <strong>

_It's gonna hurt like hell when you pull back the hammer and fire, but I'm fine, I'm fine…_

* * *

><p>When Hermione had fixed her head and relieved some of the pain from her wrists and lip, she waited for Dean to get back. Apparently they had to pay extra for staying past their check-out time.<p>

"It's okay, I'll make Sammy pay," said Dean jokingly when he got back into the car. Hermione frowned at the injury on his head. Dean caught her gaze and said, "What?"

Hermione tried not to sound too pushy when she replied, "You're hurt, Dean – can you please let me help you?"

Dean stared at her for a moment before replying, "Yeah, the first aid kit is behind my seat."

"No, I meant –"

"I know what you meant," he interrupted. "But – I still don't like magic. I can't help it." Hermione could see the annoyed glare to his eyes and she quickly reached over the back seat to get the first aid kid. She didn't realise that Dean's frustration wasn't caused by her, but by his own inability to trust her powers.

It was only after she had opened the kit that Hermione realised she had no experience with muggle first aid. It wasn't like she had been applying bandages before she was eleven, and after that it had all been magical.

"I – um, Dean, I don't –"

"Just grab the ice snap pack, a bit of anti-inflammatory cream and some painkillers," he said, and Hermione passed him what he asked for. She watched him dry-swallow a few of the tablets before throwing them back to her, and then he began to apply the cream to his face.

Hermione could see straight away that he was guessing, but he had missed about half of the swelling. "Here, Dean," she said, taking the tube from him and carefully applying the lotion down his temple and cheekbone. Even up close, his bone structure was amazing, perfectly formed but still masculine and strong.

She nearly forgot she was applying cream when her fingertips trailed down to the top of his jaw line. Quickly retracting her hand and trying to hide her blush (with no success) she said, "There, that should –"

"Thanks," said Dean, throwing her a quick smile before turning the key and starting the car. Hermione was a little taken aback by the smile that she didn't register at first what he had said when he told her he would take her to the motel across town.

"I – what?" Hermione exclaimed. "Dean, we have to go find Sam, we can't –"

"I've said this before, Hermione," Dean explained. "You are a witch, but you don't know jack about demons. You could get badly hurt."

Hermione frowned. "You can't seriously expect me to stay in another bloody motel room while you go off hunting demons."

"I can't take you with me," he replied simply. "How can I be sure you won't get hurt, or killed?" He glanced across to see Hermione's stony expression, and he said, "Please, Hermione. I know I've been a crap partner to work with and you've no reason to do what I say, but you gotta trust me."

Hermione felt her words tangle as she managed to stammer in her fury, "I – you can't – Dean, I'm not a weak girl! I can protect myself, I can –"

"Your determination is great," he cut in, "But what spell could you use on a demon? How can you help Sam without killing him?"

Hermione fell silent, knowing that he was right. "I just don't like feeling so useless," she sighed.

"You aren't useless," said Dean simply. "In fact, you can start drawing some pentagrams in the motel room once we're there. That would be incredibly helpful."

For all of the crazy that was going on, Hermione was inspired by Dean's calm and collected attitude. She breathed out all of the tension in her chest and she nodded. She could help out, even if it was something small. She could make a difference.

* * *

><p>Hermione had been left at the motel with a page of instructions for how to draw pentagrams and further instructions to chalk them onto every surface she could find. The ceiling, the floor, under the bed, over the bed, in the bathroom, under the carpets. Hermione got to work diligently as she always did, and she tried to stay calm as she watched Dean walk out the door to go after his demon-possessed brother.<p>

Hermione sighed. It had been a few hours since he had gone, and she had been uptight and tense since he had left. She really needed to stop worrying so much. These boys had been doing it since they were children. There wasn't anything that Dean wouldn't do to help Sam, and vice versa. They would be okay.

Maybe she should call someone, she thought. But who would pick up the phone? Harry and Ginny would be asleep and Hermione was not desperate enough to wake them up. Eli probably wasn't a huge fan of Hermione since she had left him hanging a few nights ago. In fact, they hadn't spoken since then.

Just as Hermione began to consider working on some pentagram-projection spells, which might come in handy at some point, she felt a sudden gust of wind as various papers and curtains began to fly around the room. She stood from where she had been sitting, turning to see a cloud of writhing, black smoke edge towards her and then she felt like she was drowning…

And a moment later, she was out cold.

* * *

><p>After Dean had chased Sam all the way to that stupid bar where he tried to kill Jo and all the way back to Bobby's where he had tried to kill them both, he felt quite exhausted. He had been behind the wheel for so long today, speeding down highways and chasing down trails that he just wanted to get back to the motel where Hermione was at and fall asleep on the bed.<p>

Sam had already fallen asleep in the passenger seat, having also been quite exhausted. From what Dean could tell, it took a lot of energy to stay alive – at least, alert – inside yourself when being possessed. Hopefully he could recover quickly, they didn't ever have much time to relax in between jobs or hunting that damn demon.

Having finally arrived back at the motel, Dean gave his brother a sharp poke in the bicep. "Wake up, bitch. We're at base camp."

Sam grumbled something incomprehensible and tried to go back to sleep, but Dean said, "Come on, Hermione is in there and she's probably worried sick about you."

Sam rolled back over to stare at his brother. "You called Hermione?" he asked. "I thought we weren't on speaking terms."

"Apparently, she's all for helping out when it comes to you," said Dean a little more sharply than he'd intended. "Don't ask, just come on. We can all laugh about how much we like witches but only after I have had a beer."

They got out of the Impala and wandered up to their room, luckily on the ground floor because Dean wasn't sure he could even handle stairs right now, and he opened the door. "Hermione," he called out, not caring if she was asleep. "We're back, we're not possessed and Sam probably wants a hug."

When nobody replied, Dean frowned and glanced around. Her bag was still on the couch and her wand on the table. "Hermione?" he said a little more tentatively, flicking on the light as he wandered in.

He nearly jumped when she came into the room from the bathroom, and she sighed in relief as she saw them both. "Oh thank goodness you're alright," she said, but she didn't move towards them. "I was so worried."

Both Sam and Dean thought at the same time that there was something not quite right about Hermione's voice, before they realised that she was missing her accent. Sam frowned and said, "What's with the voice, Hermione?"

"Just something I'm trying out," she said, her words a little hesitant. "But there's more important things to worry about. Come on over here and give me a hug already," she smiled, and the boys took a small step backwards.

Dean's hand crept backwards to sit on the handle of his gun and he said, "Why don't you come over here?" He knew without looking there was a pentagram on the ceiling between them and he wanted to be totally sure. He was still on edge from all these demons.

"Maybe I don't want to," Hermione said, voice a lot less kind and intelligent than Sam remembered. "Come on, Sammy. Don't you want to come on over here and give me a kiss?"

He resisted the urge to take a step backwards as he stared at Hermione's eyes as they suddenly became shrouded in black, and he flinched away from the evil grin on her face. He didn't think she'd ever look so awful.

Dean's gun was immediately drawn and he was struggling to keep himself from shooting, which was what he would do with any other demon. But he knew that if he hurt the demon, he would hurt Hermione. And somehow, while a while ago that might have seemed like an alright idea, killing a demon and a witch in the same go, two birds with one stone, it now was out of the question, because he was supposed to protect the witch now. And he didn't know what to do.

"We all know you won't hurt me," said the demon. "I mean, besides the fact I'm inside your little witchy girlfriend, we're practically family."

Dean felt a cold chill run across his skin as he realised what had happened. When they had removed the demon from Sam, she had gone to take a hold of the next best thing.

It was Meg.

* * *

><p>Hermione felt cold, achingly, bitterly cold. She felt like she was in a dream, but it wasn't nice. She could see everything that was happening but it wasn't her movements, her words, her control. She tried to take over, like she could force it, but then she felt an excruciating pain which coursed up and down her spine but she couldn't scream, she couldn't try to stop it.<p>

_Quit squirming, witch_, a voice hissed inside her mind.

Hermione didn't know who it was or how it knew she was a witch, but she felt scared. _Get out of my brain! _She thought with all of her energy, trying to make it loud.

_Jesus fucking Christ, no need to scream, _the voice snapped. Hermione then felt a pressure on her chest, like someone was trying to shove a hand under her sternum, and she exerted her energy to stop it from hurting.

_Stop stop stop…_

_Why can't you go away? _The voice snarled. _Why won't you sleep_?

Hermione didn't know what that meant but she was even more determined to stay alert and keep herself 'awake', so she simply repeated that one word in her mind.

_Stop stop stop stop stop…_

She clutched to that small hope tightly, the hope that she could keep alive long enough for Dean and Sam to help her wake up.

* * *

><p><em>I'm gonna wake up from these dreams with nightmares lined up on my street, but I'm fine, I'm fine.<em>


	19. Chapter 19

Yay, super fast updates! Enjoy! This song is Val Jester by the National, if I remember correctly. Cheers for your reviews :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen – Val Jester<strong>

_Fill her coat with weapons, and help her get it on. Cause one day when she goes, she's gone…_

* * *

><p>"Oh that's real nice," said Dean, staring down his Colt at the witch. "Can't you just leave us alone for five minutes?"<p>

Sam's lip twitched as he stared at the possessed witch. "Really brave. Hiding in a girl you know we won't hurt." Dean glanced at his brother to see a dark hatred simmering in his brother's usually calm green eyes.

"Brave?" the demon laughed. "I don't care about brave, honey. I care about being alive, and unlike you humans, I don't prop myself up on delusions of my own integrity. I'm smart and I am resourceful."

"Smart isn't hiding inside our friend," Sam spat as he began to circle to the other side of the room, drawing his own gun. "Smart would have been staying away from us."

Hermione laughed but it wasn't a nice sound. It raised the hair on Dean's skin. "You don't scare me, Sammy," said Meg. "Besides, I still kinda like you. I reckon I've got a better chance when I'm in a body like this. When I'm inside Hermione. After seeing what goes on in your brain..."

Dean's lip twitched as he listened to the demon taunt them and he couldn't stop the words slipping from his mouth. "Shut your face, bitch."

The demon turned back to Dean, feigning being hurt. "Ouch, Dean. That stings."

She looked as though she was about to walk towards him but then she hesitated and turned towards Sam instead, and he inched backwards as she moved closer. "Come on Sammy," she said quietly. "You can just pretend that I'm the real Hermione and you can finally make that dream of yours come true."

Dean gritted his teeth, really struggling not to shoot Meg now even though she was inside Hermione. The way she looked at Sam, the way she meandered towards him was enough to make his blood boil, and he didn't know if it was jealousy or hate.

"Don't listen to her, Sammy," he said loudly. "It's not Hermione, it's Meg. Shoot her if you have to."

"You won't shoot me," said Meg quietly, "And neither will Sam. Because he likes the witch too much."

The determined glare had been wiped from Sam's face and was replaced with a confused frown, a worried glint to his eyes. His hand tightened on the sawed-off rifle in his hands and he said, "Stop moving or I'll kill you."

Meg shifted forwards with such speed Dean nearly missed it and his hands faltered, nearly pulling the trigger. She had moved up right in front of Sam, and had placed Hermione's elegant hands on the front of his overshirt and was leaning up, whispering something to him that Dean couldn't hear.

"Hey!" he shouted, and the demon turned and glanced at him with Hermione's eyes. She looked so soft and delicate, her eyes warm and gold and Dean knew that if Sam didn't do something soon, he wouldn't be able to do anything at all. He couldn't shoot her and they all knew it.

So it was a blessing when Sam took that extra step backwards, pulling Hermione with him and landing them both on top of the medium sized rug on the floor. Meg didn't realise what had happened until Sam took a few more steps away and when he stepped off the rug, she was held back and she couldn't move.

She flinched, confused for a moment before she glanced at the ceiling, and then at the floor. She turned to glare at Dean and she said in an angry tone, "Pentagrams on rugs now. That's real smart, Dean."

"It was her work," he said with a slightly smug smile on his face. "You should have seen it coming." He nodded at his brother, who went over to the bag to get the ritual book out.

"An exorcism," said Meg, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how original."

"Well we all know shooting you will do no good," said Dean as he tucked his gun into the back of his jeans. "And it certainly won't help Hermione."

"You're using first names with the witch now?" said Meg, turning to face him as he circled around her. "That's odd. From what I hear, you don't like this one very much."

"I like her more than you," Dean shot back with a smile. "No offense."

Hermione's lips twisted into a vicious smile as her eyes burned into him, and Dean faltered for a moment. She then said, "Why don't you save yourself the hurt, Dean? Kill Hermione and kill me. Use the Colt. You can't afford to keep her around anyway."

Dean flinched. "Shut your face, whore." He took a few short breaths, before he said, "Sam, send her back."

As Sam began to read the Latin verses, Hermione's body began to twitch and her face contorted, and then the demon laughed like a maniac as she said, voice tight and strained, "She's – going to be broken when you get her back, boys. As soon as I stepped inside your – your damn pentagram, I started my work." She laughed again, taking a deep breath as she went on. "She's going to have nightmares for months."

Sam faltered halfway through a sentence, and even Dean was frozen for a moment before Sam regained his composure and went on, and Dean felt sick in his stomach when he saw Hermione's body put through that kind of pain. She was writhing, crying and she fell to her knees, her body shaking for a moment before she vomited out the black smoke, and both brothers stood very still as the smog screamed through the room and disappeared.

And then Hermione slumped to the floor, unconscious. They both rushed to her, Sam catching her head just before it hit the wall and Dean pressing down above her collarbone at the pressure point as he said in a loud clear voice, "Hermione! Hermione, wake up. It's gone, come on, open your eyes."

Sam's worried eyes met Dean's for a moment as he cradled Hermione's head, and then Dean said quietly, "Come on, Hermione." He brushed his hand against her cheek, down her neck and felt a slow but steady pulse.

And a moment later, the pulse seemed to triple and her eyes shot open, wide and scared. She went rigid for a moment, staring up at Dean and Sam before she realised that she had control of her own body, and then she began to shake. She covered her face with her hands and pulled her legs towards her stomach, and Dean realised that she was crying.

"Hermione," Sam said, sighing in relief. "Shh, it's okay now. It's gone."

Dean watched as Hermione shook, cradled in Sam's arms and he realised that she was like this because he couldn't be bothered looking after her, and he'd been too worried about Sam. Hermione knew how to deal with ghosts, with poltergeists, werewolves and anything else, but she needed to be protected from demons. And Dean hadn't been able to look after her.

* * *

><p>A little while later, they had decided the best place for them to go was to Bobby's. Dean hadn't even complained about having to drive all the way back. After having salted the doors and windows for safety's sake, Sam decided he would see how Hermione was doing. He had carried her to and from the car because she had fallen over when she'd tried to walk, her legs were trembling so badly. She apologised for having to be carried (as though she weighed enough to make it an effort) and to be honest, Sam didn't mind. She had asked to be left alone to rest for a while but Sam figured an hour was enough, and if she was asleep he could leave her be. If she wasn't sleeping, she wasn't alright and needed help.<p>

"I'll go check on her," he said, and Dean simply nodded, turning back to the gun he was cleaning. Sam walked out of the kitchen and wandered downstairs to where Hermione was staying in the anti-demon panic room. She had agreed to staying there for peace of mind, but she had transformed the crappy old mattress and bed frame to a nice wooden king single bed with lots of pillows. She said that was for her peace of mind also.

When Sam knocked on the door and wandered in, she was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and Sam could see the shine of tears on her cheeks in the dim light. He leant against the door frame, watching her. He hadn't seen her cry before. That demon had really got to her.

"Hey," he said softly, "Are you okay?"

She didn't jump when she heard his voice – she simply looked up at him and shook her head.

Sam moved over to the bed, and he sat down beside her. "Hey, Hermione. Don't cry." He gently wrapped one of his arms around her, and he was surprised at how small she seemed. When Sam thought of Hermione he didn't think of small or meek – she had too much of a strong presence. But physically, especially when she was curled into herself like she was now, she was so small it was almost unbelievable.

Sam pulled her close, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, letting his shirt soak up the tears. He squeezed her gently, and said, "You're okay, Hermione. It's all over."

"No, it's not," she said, her voice unusually quiet. "You don't know the things I've seen, Sam. That – that demon brought back my worst memories."

Sam grimaced. "I know. I – you must feel awful." Sam knew that if that demon had decided to have a crack at him, he'd have seen Jessica. And he'd be the trembling, crying wreck, not Hermione.

Sam didn't know whether to ask Hermione what her worst memories were. He didn't want to pry, but he also was itching to know. He couldn't help but be curious.

"Hermione," he began quietly, "Do you – do you want to talk about it?"

He felt her sigh shakily against him, and he felt her hand grip the front of his shirt, as though she needed to keep herself steady. "Do you know what it's like to watch your friends die, Sam?" she asked, voice barely a whisper. "To stare into their eyes and know they're not there, thinking that if you were there, maybe even a second earlier, you might have been able to save them? Or maybe knowing if you'd tried harder, things might be better?"

Sam felt her words like knives in his chest. He didn't reply, he simply nodded, letting her know that he understood.

He felt her tremble, and a choked sob left her throat. "I came back from the – from the battle to see Fred, and Remus and – and Tonks, lying there, dead. I –" she was stumbling over her words. "So many people I know died, and I couldn't save them. I thought –" She began to cry, sobbing into his shoulder, and Sam wrapped both hands around her, swaying her gently as she gripped onto his shirt.

"If-if only we had f-found the other H-Horcruxes sooner, there wouldn't have been a war at all," she stammered through her tears, and even though Sam had no idea what a Horcrux was, or why it had anything to do with a war, or who she was talking about, he didn't say anything, he simply held her and let her cry onto his shoulder, and he waited there with her until she had run out of tears to cry, and he laid her down gently on the thin mattress of the motel room, and pulled the covers over her, making sure she was asleep before he even thought about leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Dean glanced up as Sam wandered back into the kitchen. "How's she holding up?" he asked casually, as he finished cleaning up his gear, replacing the rounds in his guns and refilling his holy water stores.<p>

Sam shook his head. "Not so good right now, but she'll be okay."

"It was Meg, wasn't it?" Dean asked. "She did this to Hermione."

"Yeah," replied Sam with a sigh. "I just – I don't understand. Why didn't I remember a thing, but Hermione remembered everything? And the demon – it made her relive her worst memories, tortured her from the inside out. Why Hermione, and not me?"

Dean grimaced. "I hate to say it, but the demons probably have orders not to kill you. Hermione is disposable."

"How can you say that?" Sam exclaimed, astonished at his brother's carelessness.

"Oh, come on, Sam," Dean said, throwing his hands up. "You know I didn't mean it like that. I mean from their point of view, that's all."

Sam frowned at his brother for a moment before he said, "You should be showing a little more concern, Dean. Hermione has been through a lot and she –"

"Don't say that, Sam," Dean said, turning to glare daggers at his brother. "Don't say I'm not concerned. I was supposed to be the one looking after her, and look what happened. She's like this because of me, alright? She doesn't want me to go give her cuddles and tell her it's going to be okay. She's got you for that crap." Dean sighed, putting his gun and cloth down on the table as he leaned on it. "She doesn't need me to be her friend. She needs me to protect her and I – I couldn't do it."

Sam realised how cut up his brother was about leaving Hermione alone in that motel room and before he could even speak, Dean had sighed once more before picking up his gear and walking out of the room.

* * *

><p><em>You should have looked after her better, you should have looked after her more. You should have locked the door.<em>


	20. Chapter 20

Hey guys, sorry for the delay between updates. Unfortunately I've had a pretty rough couple of months, what with university starting, my grandparents in and out of hospital, sister moving out, et cetera. I'd also like to mention that while reviews are encouraged and appreciated, and politely asking for updates is fine, spamming me with messages to update doesn't make me write any faster what with everything else going on. I also have exams for a few weeks, but I'll get back into writing after that.

With that said and done, here is the next chapter, song is 'The Shake' by Kisschasy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 – The Shake<strong>

_The shiver of my wheezing chest reminds me of the way I felt two years back._

* * *

><p>The chilling scream seemed to send ice through every single one of Dean's veins as he sat upright in bed, before leaping out and running downstairs, the sweat from his own nightmares beading on his brow.<p>

It didn't even occur to Dean to wake up Sam, because he had gone the last time. He flew down the stairs to the demon-proof room where Hermione was contorting on the bed, her body twitching as she cried and screamed like somebody had set her on fire. Dean grasped her hand and he said loudly, "Hermione, wake up!"

Her eyes shot open and she saw him, and suddenly scrambled away from him, eyes wide like she was afraid of him. He could see her shaking, see the sweat on her skin. "Hermione," he said, more quietly this time, "It's okay. It's me."

She swallowed as though trying to keep her fear inside but when she spoke her voice was hoarse and broken from screaming. "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault," said Dean gently, before he held out his hand and said, "Come on, come here."

She moved back towards him, and he placed her head on his shoulder and cradled her in his arms. A week ago this would have been the last thing Dean ever thought he'd be doing – holding Hermione, comforting her. That was Sam's job. But it would happen every night, usually more than once, and Sam couldn't stay awake all night, every night.

On the third night, after Sam had fallen asleep at lunch earlier that day, when Hermione screamed again, Dean was the one to go down to see her. He had gently coaxed her into his arms like she was a child and he had stayed by her side until she slept soundly, and they had realised that for some reason, Dean's presence helped her to sleep soundly. Sam could help her find sleep again, but he didn't make the nightmares go away. Sam had been a bit confused by it, but Bobby had mused it may have been because of the fact he had been possessed by the same demon which tortured Hermione.

As Dean gently swayed her back and forth he wondered what could have been so awful to make such a placid and usually well-balanced girl like Hermione turn into a screaming, crying mess, every night, every day, unable to find peace. Meg had been right when she said there would be nightmares, but how long would this go on for?

Dean had been mumbling his usual stuff – "It's okay, I'm here now. You're safe, you don't need to cry…"

He flinched when he heard Hermione whisper, "I can't do it anymore."

"Don't say that," he said, feeling cold all of a sudden. "We can get through this."

"I can't," she cried, gripping onto his sleeve with white knuckled hands. "I can't do it, I don't want to – I don't want to be like this anymore."

Dean could see the red marks on her skin where she had clawed at herself in the night. "Hermione, you can't give up," he said desperately, "Please, we can fix you but you can't give up."

Her hesitation made him feel reassured for a moment but then she said quietly, "I don't want to live in a cage of my worst memories."

And then Dean realised what it was keeping her this way – her memories.

He swallowed a small lump of uncertainty and he said quietly, "What if we could make it go away?"

Hermione pulled away from him, staring at him strangely. "What do you mean?"

"You can change someone's memory, can't you?" Dean asked, hesitantly. "Why can't you change your own? Or at least shut them away so they don't hurt so much?"

Hermione flinched as though Dean had slapped her. "I couldn't do that, Dean," she whispered. "These – these memories are mine, they remind me of who I am and what I've done. I can't just –"

"Then what did she do to make them hurt you like this?"

Hermione stared at her hands, wringing them together as she replied, "I don't know."

Dean tried to stop himself from sighing. He felt frustrated. His thoughts were interrupted when Hermione said quietly, "I'm sorry I'm always waking you up, I know it must be awful… I should go back to New York –"

"No!"

Hermione's startled eyes were enough to tell Dean he had spoken too loudly. "Sorry," he grimaced. "I just – you can't do this alone."

Dean realised then that neither could he. He needed somebody who knew magic, like Hermione, who could help because they were running out of ideas, Hermione was running out of energy and she was looking skinnier every day. She looked so weak. She wasn't herself anymore.

Carefully brushing her hair back from her face, Dean said, "Just wait here, okay? I'll be back soon."

* * *

><p>Not ten minutes later, Dean had taken the little address book from Hermione's bag (and he had praised Jesus it was in the top pocket – he didn't want to know how big the inside of that bag was) and he was calling the only person he vaguely knew he might be able to trust.<p>

He put the phone to his ear and waited for the ringing to stop. When it did, the disgruntled voice that answered the phone wasn't pleased.

"_Whoever you are, you better have an amazing reason for waking me up at this time of morning_."

Dean grimaced as he forced himself to be civil. "Elijah," he said. "It's Dean Winchester."

There was a long moment of silence and Dean thought for a moment the phone line had been cut. "Hello?"

"_I'm here_."

"Do you remember who I am?"

"…_yes._"

Dean sighed. "Look man, I'm sorry for calling you so early."

"_Like I said, you better have a good reason_."

"It – it's Hermione."

There was another small gap before Eli nearly broke Dean's ear as he shouted into the phone. "_What did you do to her? What happened?_"

"Elijah –"

"_What did you do to her?_"

"I didn't do anything!" Dean shouted back, and Eli was quiet. "I didn't do anything, alright! She was helping me to find Sam, and she was possessed by a demon. We got it out of her but – but she's not okay. I don't know what to do."

"_So you're calling me to clean up your mess?_"

"I'm calling you because I want to help her and there's nothing I can do," Dean said, voice growing tight as he realised how desperate he was to make Hermione okay. "She won't sleep, she keeps waking up screaming and she's scratching her skin and she won't eat anything, if she does it comes back up, I – I'm not asking you to help me. Hermione needs help and I can't help her."

Dean thought he heard Eli sigh but he wasn't sure. "_I'll be there soon," _he said. "_I'm going to be bringing Kingsley Shacklebolt as well. I'm not sure if you've heard of him but he's Hermione's boss_."

"I don't want Hermione to get fired –"

"_Don't be stupid. We don't fire people. We fix them. There ain't enough of us to act like that._"

Dean was about to tell him where they were when Eli hung up abruptly, not even saying goodbye. "Rude bastard," Dean muttered before putting the phone away.

"I could say the same for you," said Eli's voice suddenly, and Dean spun, eyes wide as he saw the wizard standing behind him.

Though he tried, Dean couldn't stop feeling the shock rattle through him and he said in a loud, breaky voice, "What the hell!"

Eli looked slightly smug as he replied, "It's called apparation, Hermione may have mentioned it."

"How did you know where we were?" Dean said, trying to speak normally despite the hammering inside his chest, adrenaline kicking in from the shock.

Eli shrugged. "We've been keeping tabs on Hermione. She's one of the best agents we have. It would be stupid if we lost her."

"You knew she was helping us?"

Eli's eyes narrowed and he said in a sharp, unfriendly tone, "Hermione and I were having dinner when you called her."

Dean suddenly realised why Eli was being so rude to him, and for a moment he started to feel a little smug. Hermione had dropped everything to come help the Winchesters. Though he wished to crack a joke about how the date must have been pretty crap, Dean simply said, "Look man, I'm sorry if my issues got in the way of you and Hermione but I think saving lives trumps a date. You of all people should know that."

Eli looked liked he was about to snap at Dean but he held his tongue long enough for another person to appear out of thin air, causing Dean to stumble backwards and fall. "Jesus Christ!" he cried out.

"Not quite," said the man, chuckling as he helped Dean to his feet. "But I hear he's quite the character."

This man was tall and had dark skin, warm brown eyes and a calm sort of smile. He wore ridiculously bright blue robes and a fancy, silver-lined fez on his head.

Eli gave Dean a final glare before he said, "Kingsley, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic."

Before Dean could respond, he heard Sam's voice say from the hallway, "Dean, is that you? Is something –" His sentence fell short as he stepped into the room, glancing from his brother's alarmed expression to Eli's heavy frown and Kingsley's calm smile.

"You must be Sam," said Kingsley, reaching out to shake the younger brother's hand. Sam glanced at Dean as though he was asking for guidance, and Dean simply said, "They're here to help Hermione."

Quick introductions were made, and Eli and Sam were reacquainted (in a rather blunt fashion) while Dean explained the situation to Kingsley, who quietly stroked his chin and listened with great interest.

"A demon, you say?" Kingsley said, frowning. "It's not my area of expertise, though I can understand how it may have compromised Hermione."

"She's not compromised," said Sam rather sadly. "She's just – broken. She can't do anything."

"Did she speak about the memories which were haunting her?" asked Eli.

Dean shook his head, but Sam replied, "She said something about a war. About – Whore crosses?"

"Horcruxes," corrected Kingsley. "Hermione had a harder time than most in the war and it was difficult for all of us. If the demon has played with Hermione's mind to make every memory a bad one then we need to correct it."

"How?" Dean asked, "She won't use a memory charm."

"There are ways," said Kingsley. "It's not guaranteed but we can try."

Eli turned to his boss and said quietly, "Potions?"

Kingsley nodded. "I know just the right person. I'll have him here within the next twelve hours."

"Twelve hours?" Dean exclaimed, pushing himself off the bench he had been leaning against. "What the hell is the point of having magic if everything you do takes so long?"

There was a heavy silence and as Kingsley turned around to stare at him condescendingly, Dean understood why he was the leader of the whole organisation. That glare could make a person shrivel up and die.

"Mister Winchester," he said slowly, "We may have the power to teleport and access to the greatest resources in this world, but we are still just humans. We make magic, not miracles."

* * *

><p><em>And as I start to drift away, you're the shake that pulls me back to this state.<em>


	21. Chapter 21

****Sooo hey there. Got around to it, finally. I should be back into the swing of things and I aplogise for the lack of momentum. Unfortunately, though many of you were keen for Snape, I'm trying to keep this as close to both the HP storyline and the Supernatural story line as I possibly can, so I didn't resurrect him. I'm kind of like that sometimes. The song this chapter is 'Fix You' by Coldplay. Thanks for all your lovely reviews :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong> **– Fix You**

_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep, stuck in reverse…_

* * *

><p>The next eight or so hours passed slowly, tensely. Dean wanted so badly to complain about nothing happening to help Hermione but he didn't really fancy pissing off that Minister for Magic. After all, as Sam had noted, he was the guy who had approved their pay cheques for helping out Hermione. No point pissing off the boss.<p>

Eli had gone to see Hermione but their conversation hadn't lasted that long, because he returned five minutes later and said he'd be back to check on her after he was finished work. Kingsley received a message saying he was needed elsewhere, and he told Sam and Dean that they could contact him at his emergency number, giving them his business card, and that he would return later to check on Hermione. Dean got the impression that Hermione was more than an employee to this boss – more like a daughter. He had gone to see her and spent a good hour with her, gently comforting her and calmly asking her about her ordeal without setting off any tears. Dean was impressed.

Dean was onto his sixth mug of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Bobby glanced at him from the office with a frown, wondering if that was in fact the witch-doctor that Kingsley had sent for to help Hermione or if it was a neighbour looking for Bobby to help with a car problem. They had simply assumed the witch-doctor would just appear from out of nowhere.

Dean strode to the front door and when he opened it he didn't know what to think. The man was tall, lanky, and had the most ridiculous mop of red hair, pale skin dotted with freckles and alarmingly bright blue eyes, wearing brown trousers, a plain white buttoned shirt and a burgundy waistcoat. He gave Dean a crooked smile and held out a long-fingered hand and said, "Morning. George Weasley at your service."

Dean tentatively shook the taller man's hand and he said, "What service might that be?"

"Here to help Hermione, of course," he said, tapping the briefcase he was holding by his side.

Sam appeared behind Dean, and he said immediately, "Did Kingsley Shacklebolt send you?"

The red head nodded. "That's the one. I'm his go-to potions man since Snape kicked the bucket."

"Who's Snape?"

"A dead guy. Good with a cauldron though, you know, before he corked it."

Dean held up his hands, saying, "Whoa, okay, stop. We're not having casual chats just yet, alright Sam?" he glared at his little brother before turning back to George. "Alright, you can come in after we make sure you're not a demon. Okay?"

George looked a little bemused but he said, "Fine by me." He drank the holy water they gave to him and stepped right over the salt line at the door and the pentagram on the floor, and when Sam raised his eyebrows Dean nodded his head.

"Okay. You pass."

"Great," said George. "Sorry, didn't catch your names."

"I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam," said Dean. "We're hunters. Hermione was working with us when she got possessed."

"Yeah, nasty stuff," said George solemnly. "But she's strong, and she's been through a lot. Probably had worse."

A quizzical frown appeared on Sam's brow. "Do you know Hermione?"

"Known her since she was eleven," said George casually. "Spent a good five years with her at school before I dropped out. Played many a practical joke on her. Taught her about Quidditch. Watched her save the world. Lived with her for a bit when she got engaged to my brother."

Both the Winchesters were taken aback by not only the crash course of Hermione's history but also the rate at which George spoke. It was like he was in fast forward.

"Engaged?" said Sam.

"Quidditch?" said Dean at the same time.

George chuckled at their blank expressions before he said, "Time for that later. Show me to the leading lady, I will fix her."

When Dean led him downstairs to the demon-proof room, George raised a slight eyebrow at the strange, bomb-shelter like contraption before the door opened and he saw Hermione. Dean watched with interest from the doorway as George quietly wandered inside, said her name quietly. Hermione turned around and when she saw George, the pain shimmering in her eyes faded for a moment as she stood and embraced him, gripping him tightly as he wrapped his long arms around her and gently kissed her forehead.

Only after seeing that she was in good hands did Dean leave them be, going back upstairs.

* * *

><p>"Been a while, kid," George muttered, gently pushing the hair back from her face.<p>

Hermione's smile was pained, tired, distant, but it was the happiest she had felt in days. "George," she said quietly, "I've missed you."

"You should have dropped by the shop," he said. "Get away from all this for a while. You'd probably be safer, too."

"You know I can't," Hermione replied with a sigh. "Ron wouldn't want me staying there."

"Even Ron isn't enough of a git to behave like that," George said, reassuringly as they sat down on her alarmingly comfortable bed. "Even he wouldn't want you like this."

Hermione flinched slightly, and George immediately apologised. "No, it's fine," she said, shaking her head. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To fix me?"

George nodded, looking quite solemn. "Kingsley told me what's happening to you. I've got the perfect medicine for you, if you trust me."

"I've always trusted you, George. Except for that one time on the train when you turned my cat into a pillow."

"I don't know how many times I have to apologise for that," George groaned, but they shared a smile before he reached over to unbuckle his briefcase and pull out a number of vials.

He held up two skinny vials, one with a gentle pink and one with a calm blue liquid inside, and he said, holding up the blue, "Draught of peaceful, dreamless, lengthy sleep. It doesn't have a technical name yet, but it was designed not only to scare off nightmares at night, and this one, the pink, is for warding off bad memories during the day. Heals your brain, if you like."

Hermione's thin fingers took the blue vial from him, and she glanced at George. She wondered if George had concocted this when Fred had died – she guessed probably, definitely, yes. He was a wreck after that. Everybody was. She could tell from the sad shine in his usually bright blue eyes that she was right.

"That's for before you sleep," he said. "The pink is for when you wake up, and you take it again at lunch. After a couple of weeks your bad memories will be back to normal. You know – there, but not everywhere."

Unable to think of anything better to say, Hermione simply sighed and she took George's calloused, scarred, nimble hand in hers and she held it gently, and he sat with her for a while and they stayed in comfortable silence.

* * *

><p>It had only been about forty minutes but Dean felt like it had been forever by the time George came back up the stairs again. He gave the Winchester brothers a wry smile, like he was in some sort of pain himself. "She'll be okay," he said, sitting down at the table with Sam, glancing at Dean who was leaning against the bench.<p>

Sam was wringing his hands together. "Are you sure?"

George nodded. "I know what's happened to her. See, she's already been through this, having to deal with all the emotional pain, and she healed that up. This – demon, whatever it is – it's just torn the stitches right out again, as it were, and Hermione is – well, I'd wouldn't say she's unable but she's too weak from the nightmares to fix it back up again. I – I've given her a potion I used on myself when my twin brother died. It'll work."

Sam flinched a little at the thought of losing a brother, and Dean shifted slightly as though he was uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Who did she lose?"

George didn't even bother grimacing. "Shall I find you a list of the names?" he replied, a little too sarcastically.

Sam and Dean shared a glance, knowing exactly how that felt. George tapped his fingers rhythmically against the wooden table, before he went on. "She lost a lot of friends, family – well, you know, not family, but they might have well as been. She lost her parents, too –"

"Her parents died?" Sam asked, horrified. "She never said –"

George shook his head, "No, no, not dead. She wiped their memories to protect them, and sent them to Australia. She went looking for them but they'd moved, and she hasn't found them yet."

As he glanced to and from the solemn gaze of Sam and the worried from of Dean, George said, "Look, I don't want you to talk to Hermione about this stuff. She doesn't like pity. I just thought you should know how much she's been through and – tread carefully."

Sam nodded. "Maybe you should keep an eye on her for a few days."

"I don't – I don't think I can," said George. "I have a business to run, as much as I'd like to be with her. I'll stay til morning just to be sure that the medicine is working but I don't want to burden you."

Dean said immediately, "There's a couch if you want to sleep on it."

To which George snorted and said, "I'm a wizard, in case you've already forgotten. I'll make my own bed, thankyou very much, direct me to the nearest empty room."

* * *

><p>The next morning was rather tense. The lack of sleep combined with the stress of the night before left Dean very short-tempered and Sam very moody. The sarcasm had begun before breakfast was even mentioned and Bobby had to threaten them both to shut their stupid mouths before Hermione woke up.<p>

"She doesn't need to deal with you two," Bobby had snapped. "She's got enough crap on her plate."

George had gone down to check on Hermione as soon as he had woken up. He'd had a brief conversation with Dean before heading straight downstairs. He figured that avoiding the Winchesters and the frowning old guy nobody had actually introduced him to was the best course of action, and he felt his company would be more appreciated by Hermione.

Even if she was asleep. That said a lot about the hospitality of the Winchesters.

She was asleep, but she was not tossing or turning, and she was breathing slowly and calmly. George wondered if he should leave some dreamless sleep potion as well, but realised she would have already tried that. Clearly the damage caused was too great to be fixed by a simple sleeping potion.

He was pondering away when she made a few small noises, stretching as she drifted awake. She blinked slowly, before yawning and staring at the ceiling for a moment or two. She only realised he was there when she turned over, and she didn't look alarmed or surprised at all.

She simply smiled, and said, "George."

"Hermione," he nodded, smiling back. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Best I've had all week," she replied quietly, and he knew she was telling the truth. There was no pain in her eyes.

"Good," he said. "I'll leave you enough for a month – I mean, you should be okay soon but it's better to be safe than sorry. I can send more, if you need. I –"

"George," Hermione frowned, sitting up in the bed. "Aren't you going to stay? For breakfast, at least."

He shrugged. "No offense Hermione, but your friends – they don't seem to like me that much. I did try saying hello this morning but they're all – well, a bit moody."

"What did they say?" she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

George recognised the look on her face. "Oh, no – Hermione, that's – you don't need to tell them off, okay? They're hunters, I get that, they –"

"You're my friend, George," she said, standing up on her bare feet. "If they don't treat you like royalty, they're going to get a talking to. If they didn't praise you for coming here in the first place then they should be hit over the head with the heaviest frying pan I can find."

He did honestly try to stop her going up the stairs to the kitchen, but George had to admit that the look on the Winchester's faces was priceless when she stormed into the kitchen in her pyjamas and pointed an accusing finger at them.

"Did you or did you not thank George for what he's done?" she demanded, her glare strong enough to make both the brothers shrivel slightly, and even Bobby shifted backwards.

"Hermione – I –" Sam began, but she cut him off.

"This is the most accomplished potions master of his generation and he came all the way out here because of what your stupid demon did to me, and you can't even take a second to say _thank you_?" she yelled, before her gaze turned to Dean who had been standing by the fridge.

What happened next was quite unusual, but it certainly resolved the issue. Dean took a few steps towards her, staring at her with a strange expression before he gathered her into his arms and held her close. It was now Hermione who was the one taken aback.

"I thought I'd never see you pissed off again," Dean muttered.

Hermione sighed, but George could see the smile as she pressed her cheek against Dean's shoulder. "You're such a prick," she said.

"I know."

It was after that, Sam and Dean shook George's hand and said thanks to him, and when he tried to apologise for Hermione's outburst they brushed it off, telling him that his witch doctor potion must have done something right if she was pointing fingers and shouting as soon as she had woken up.

Hermione thought of how sceptical Dean had been when they had first met, and thought about how much he had changed. He would never have shaken hands with a wizard, let alone called one for help to save her life. God, he would have gladly killed her with his own two hands.

Maybe the demon had done some good. It had hurt, but Hermione was happy to see George and Dean able to shake hands and share a small joke, to drink coffee at the same table. It was almost like victory.

Hermione smiled to herself as she had her toast and juice and she felt better than she had in a very, very long time.

* * *

><p><em>Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you<em>.


	22. Chapter 22

****Oh botheration, it has been so very long since this was updated. But I am a terrible person in general so I am incredibly sorry and I'll try tokeep this more regular :) I hope you can see fit to forgive me. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, and thanks for reading :D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22 – Atrophy<strong>

_Break the walls between building atrophy, causing all your problems to recede._

* * *

><p>It had been nearly a month since Hermione had started taking the potions George had given her and she thought she was nearly okay. She woke up feeling fine, she didn't struggle to get to sleep and her dreams were normal and boring.<p>

She wasn't at Bobby's anymore – Sam was determined that she stay there so they could keep an eye on her, but she said she was twenty six and more than capable of looking after herself, thank you very much. She was back at her own apartment in New York, and she'd even gone in a few days to work to see what had been happening.

The Embassy was running smoothly enough without her. She wasn't the boss, after all, but she was a good agent. Seeing Elijah again had been a little awkward, to put it nicely. He had smiled and told her he was glad to see her, happy she was better – but he didn't hug her, tease her, joke with her like he usually would. He was distant. Hermione supposed she deserved it, but she wouldn't just leave Sam and Dean on their own.

Anyway.

There was a new recruit at the Embassy, a slightly greying wizard named Ewan whose attempts at muggle clothing would raise eyebrows. His peach coloured shirt and cat-pattern tie contrasted oddly with his green pinstripe suit. But kudos to him for trying.

Ewan had been helping Elijah out in the Law Enforcement side, and Cooper had been giving them a hand with paperwork, unable to ignore the piles stacking up on Eli's desk. He was nowhere near as good at paperwork as Hermione, and her being away for just over a month had a major impact. He was still able to work, but his overtime had been steadily increasing.

She was still tired – the potions made her drowsy about mid-afternoon, and she sometimes took a nap, falling asleep with a book in her hands or nodding off at her desk. She hadn't been allowed to go on a proper job since she had returned to work. Kingsley had informed reception she was only allowed to do paperwork and interview witnesses, she wasn't actually allowed to go hunting or investigate the Death Eater clans.

It made her so bored. But she knew she'd recover soon enough, and Kingsley wouldn't keep her waiting too long. He knew better than that.

One afternoon, Hermione was walking home – a tedious activity, but something she occasionally preferred to apparition – when her phone began to buzz in her pocket. She was a little surprised to see Sam's name flash on the screen.

"Sam," she said, "What a pleasant surprise."

"_Hey, Hermione,_" he said, "_How's it going?_"

"Not bad, not bad. Yourself?"

"_Yeah, going good. We're actually – we're in New York at the moment, wondering if you wanted to have a coffee or something?"_

It had only been a few weeks since she'd last seen them but it made her feel happy to think that Sam wanted to hang out with her again, so soon. "Of course," she said, "Are you here now?"

"_Yeah, we're just driving in. We were in Pennsylvania for a ghost problem and figured we could stop by and see how you were doing._"

"That's a brilliant idea," she said. "Let me give you my address, the apartment I live at has car bay but I don't use it, so you're welcome to park the Impala down there."

"_Yeah, it should be. She's got a car park, Dean, is that – uh, he wants to know if it's a secure car park_."

"It has a security guard and everything," Hermione said, smiling at how precious the hunter was about his car. "Tell him if it gets damaged I'll make him another one out of a biscuit tin or something."

"_I'm not telling him that, he'll turn the car around. Text me your address?_"

"Sure thing. See you soon, Sam."

When they arrived, Hermione was waiting outside the car park entrance to punch in the security code so they could get through the gate. Once they were parked, Sam jumped out of the car and strode over to Hermione to gather her up in bear hug, lifting her off her feet.

Hermione was a little taken aback. She didn't have that many tall friends, apart from the Weasley's, and those boys usually refrained from lifting her off the ground. They were pretty scared of her. After a moment, she patted him on the back and said, "Alright, Sam, you can put me down."

He laughed, putting her back on her feet. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too," she said.

She saw Dean wander over from the Impala, and he nodded politely. "You're looking good," he said.

"I feel good." She smiled. "I'm back at work and everything."

"Field work?" Dean frowned.

"No, just office stuff. But I'll be back on the field in no time." Shaking her head, Hermione said, "Come on, we can talk upstairs."

They took the elevator up to the twelfth floor and Hermione opened her door with a spell, not a key. It was basic magic security, and she was surprised that Dean didn't make a smart comment, simply raising his eyebrows at the action.

Hermione was suddenly quite self conscious about the state of her apartment. Not that it was untidy – Hermione wasn't that messy. Everything was neat and tidy. It was just that it seemed a lot smaller now the two Winchesters were here, Dean at six feet and Sam pushing six three or four. He had to duck under the ceiling fan.

"Well, er – welcome to my humble abode, I guess," she said, scratching at her neck.

"It's nice," said Sam.

"Got anything to eat?" asked Dean, placing his bag on the floor and heading towards the fridge.

Sam rolled his eyes but Hermione didn't mind. "Yeah, there's some leftovers in there if you're hungry."

"Hey, fried rice," said Dean, grinning. "You got a microwave?"

"I'm a witch, I don't need one," she replied, taking her wand out and heating up the rice with a spell.

For the first time, Dean actually laughed at one of her spells. "Now that is an amazing trick," he said. "Can you just conjure food out of nowhere?"

"Afraid not. That's a rule of magic, you can't conjure food out of nothing."

"That sucks," he replied.

Hermione asked if they wanted a drink of anything – the idea of a coffee seemed to grab their attention – and they sat down at her couch. "What have you boys been up to, then?" she asked, putting their mugs down on the small coffee table.

"We've been to Hollywood," said Dean, shoving rice into his mouth.

"Hollywood? Wow. Trying to make it big, are we?"

Sam laughed a little. "Nah, we did get to work on set for a few days. But we were getting rid of ghosts."

"Good. Less for me," said Hermione, repressing a shudder. She didn't like malevolent ghosts. It had been a rude shock when she got to America and encountered a great many violent spirits, as there was such good control of ghosts in England. The situation in America was less stable, and the few encounters she'd had with ghosts had been pretty terrifying.

They spent a good while talking, about the ghosts and about the werewolf they had fought in San Francisco – Hermione noted Sam went a little quiet during this conversation – and Hermione was actually talking with Dean, the same way she spoke with Sam. Easily, casually. Friendly. He was being really quite friendly to her.

It was only when it got dark enough that Hermione had to turn the light on, she looked at the time. It was six o'clock. Glancing back to the hunters, she said, "Do you guys want to stay for dinner?"

Sam glanced at his brother who was already nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, dinner sounds fantastic," he said.

Hermione smiled at his eagerness, before Sam said, "Uh, actually Hermione – we were wondering if we might be able to crash here tonight. I know it's pretty inconsiderate, but –"

Hermione didn't hesitate to say, "Absolutely! You took care of me for so long at Bobby's. You can stay here whenever you like." She also knew that they'd have to conjure up a fraudulent credit card if they wanted to book a hotel, so it was far less criminal for them to stay at her place.

Dean half smiled and said, "So who's sleeping where? I'll sleep with Hermione, and Sammy can take the couch."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "Like I'd let you anywhere near my bed. I've got some spare mattresses for you."

After deciding that they would get pizza for dinner, Sam went back downstairs to get their bags from the car. While he was out, Hermione was hunting for the delivery pizza menu in her drawer when Dean wandered over to the bench and said, "Extra large supreme for me, sweetheart."

"So long as you're paying," she replied. She was still ruffling through the various pamphlets and menus in the drawer when she said, "Hey, Dean?"

"Hey, Hermione?"

"What happened in San Francisco?" she asked.

She saw Dean shift in the corner of her eye. "Why do you wanna know?"

"Sam didn't seem particularly keen on the topic, is all," she replied. "I would hate to think something bad had happened and you didn't call me."

"There probably wasn't much you could have done," he said. "It was a werewolf, she was way beyond help."

Hermione grimaced. "It's a shame you have a different strand of lycanthropy in America. I want Kingsley to form a new office over here for advanced potion research but there isn't enough money. If there was, we might be able to develop medicine for it."

"Medicine," said Dean quietly. "That'd be nice."

Hermione frowned, before glancing over her shoulder at him. "Wait, Sam didn't get bitten, did he?"

To her surprise, Dean smirked. "Not, uh – not quite."

"What do you mean?"

"He kinda had a thing for this girl," said Dean. "A real thing. It was pretty hard for him. Most of his girlfriends end up dead."

Hermione looked down, feeling a sudden wave of sadness for her friend. "That's awful," she said. "I – is he okay?"

"He'll be okay. He just needs a bit of a break. Half the reason we're here – I suggested visiting you. It might take his mind off Mel."

Hermione finally found the pizza menu and she stood up straight. "Alright. Well, I hope I can help."

"I wouldn't bring it up with Sam," said Dean.

"I wasn't planning on it."

When he didn't respond straight away, she glanced up and stared into his eyes, pale green in the dim light of the kitchen. "Thanks, sweetheart," he said, giving her a small smile before he wandered back to the couch.

Hermione was desperately trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped when he smiled at her.

They were sitting around the small table eating pizza when Hermione's phone rang again. She made a slightly annoyed noise through her mouthful of Hawaiian before she swallowed and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"_Hermione, it's Cooper_."

"Hey," she replied. "Everything okay?"

"_Yeah, everything's fine. Well, nobody's dead. I'm calling because – you know Ewan_?"

"What did he do?" she sighed.

"_He was sent out to deal with a ghost at the Brooklyn Bridge. You know the one, it keeps hurling itself at drivers –"_

"Yeah," Hermione said, urgently.

"_He went to take care of it tonight and he was in a car crash. He's alright, but they took him to hospital, and he woke up just now. Do you reckon you can finish this for him? He won't be able to do it tonight and we can't afford any more Muggles talking about the Brooklyn Bridge ghost."_

Pushing back the hair from her eyes, Hermione said, "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Cooper."

"_Heads up – if you've got a car you like, don't take that._"

"I'll take public transport."

"_Good luck_."

She ended the call, and looked up to see Sam and Dean looking at her expectantly. "A colleague of mine tried to get rid of a ghost out at Brooklyn Bridge," she explained. "He ended up in hospital."

"Is he okay?" asked Sam immediately.

"Yeah, he's fine," she said. "I think – anyway, Cooper just asked if I could pop down and finish the job. This ghost has been attacking drivers, there's been a thirty percent rise in collisions this month, and it's getting worse."

"So we're not taking my car," said Dean.

"I think it'd be better if we went on foot," Hermione agreed.

Brushing the crumbs from his hands, Dean stood up and said with a grin, "Alright ghostbusters, let's go!"

* * *

><p><em>Return to days when you knew you still felt alive, reveal the way you felt when you could look inside.<em>


	23. Chapter 23

****hey dearests, I have another chapter for you, full of feelings and drama and action and a ghost and whatnot. thanks for reading and thanks for all the lovely reviews :D the song this week is Oasis' 'Wonderwall' because it is a song full of feels.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23 – Save Me<strong>

_I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now_

* * *

><p>Taking the subway to the bridge was easy enough. Sam and Dean had no money, but Hermione cast a disillusionment charm so they weren't noticed by the guards. When they walked straight past the three of them, both Winchesters looked at Hermione, and she shrugged. She was a good person, really. But she had no muggle money, and it was too much effort to get the boys to pay for a ticket – to pay for anything, really. Besides, it wasn't like she was stealing the train.<p>

They walked down the bridge, the lights blinding Hermione as cars flew by, wind tugging at her hair. She pulled it back in a messy ponytail, not caring much about how it looked. The bridge was usually one of her favourite places – it was so old and strong and wonderful. Right now Hermione was mostly angry that a ghost had decided to hurt one of her co-workers, but also excited she was able to work with the Winchesters again.

They had their shotguns full of salt rounds and each had an iron wrench. Hermione had her wand and a few nifty spells up her sleeve. She wasn't always keen for ghost hunting, but it was just a part of her job.

Shivering, Hermione zipped up her jumper.

"Cold?" asked Sam, as considerate as ever.

"I'm fine," she replied.

Dean snorted. "You kidding? It's freezing. The sooner we get this done, the better."

Hermione saw a tow truck drive past with a wrecked car on the back. "That might be Ewan's car," she said, pointing.

Dean swore. The car was totalled. "That car looks like it got into a fight with a Decepticon." When Sam raised his eyebrows, Dean said, "Hey, if ghosts and vampires exist, then there might be Transformers out there."

They trekked along to the accident site. Ewan hadn't been here to get into a crash, specifically – he'd been trying to identify the woman. There was no point trying to burn her bones until they figured out who exactly she was and where she was buried.

"I sure hope she's got a grave," said Dean as Hermione explained the situation.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if she's attached to the bridge, we can't burn that. We'd have to do some hoodoo or something. And that's just complicated. Give me a good old burning coffin any day."

Hermione frowned but she didn't say anything. Sometimes Dean scared her a little bit.

They stopped by the site, the smell of petrol and burnt rubber lingering in the air, shards of glass on the footpath. "Alright," Hermione said. "Now we wait."

"Wait?" Dean repeated. "Nah. Provoke. I wanna get this over with."

"Dean, I don't think –" Sam began, but Dean was already off.

"Hey, lady!" he shouted, wielding his wrench. "It's been so long since I tangled with a ghost. Come on, give it up, Casper. I'd just love to put some gasoline on your bones and –"

Hermione gasped, cold rushing through her clothes, her breath clouding, her lips trembling. She knew it was close. "Sam," she said quietly.

"Yeah, she's here," he said, lifting his shotgun slightly.

Dean was still shouting insults when Hermione was nearly blown over by a gust of wind, and she appeared, a flickering mess of grey and dark red. She looked terrible. Her bones were twisted all wrong, the left side of her head was caved in, and she was covered in blood.

"Dean!" Hermione and Sam both shouted at the same time. Dean turned to see the ghost, and he grinned.

"Howdy," he said. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Hermione needed to see her face. She had to identify this person.

Stepping forward, she shouted, "Hey, lady!"

The ghost spun. Hermione could scarcely see her face beneath the blood and knotted hair, but she could see she was young – not twenties, in her thirties. She was dark haired and she was tall.

Hermione summoned all of her courage. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Hermione," Sam said quietly, "Be careful. She doesn't look like she's in a chatty mood."

Hermione nodded, not taking her eyes off the girl. "We're trying to help," Hermione called out.

She didn't expect the ghost to talk back. "You can't help," she rasped, stepping towards Hermione.

"I promise we can," Hermione said, feeling less brave with every passing moment. "I promise. Tell us what you want."

"I want them dead," the woman hissed, and then she was right in front of Hermione, cold hands reaching up to grasp at her neck – Hermione shrieked, but there was a loud crack and suddenly the ghost had disappeared.

Hermione saw Dean's shotgun at his elbow, and she thanked whatever person taught him how to shoot properly. Not that a salt bullet would kill her, but Hermione imagined it wasn't much fun.

She didn't have time to think, because it all happened so quickly – one second Hermione was giving Dean a grateful smile, and the next second Dean was being pushed, the ghost's hands moving him to the rail – and off the bridge.

Hermione didn't know what made her do it. She heard Sam shouting "No!", but she had already jumped after him, the wind hurting her eyes as she reached out to him – he was so close, and she could see him say her name, but she didn't hear it for the air rushing past her ears.

And then she grasped his hand, and she apparated back to the bridge.

There was a second of calm, Sam staring down at the two of them as they lay on the path with wide eyes. Dean was fine, he was okay, no bones broken, nobody hurt. And then she heard Sam say her name in shock and she felt the pain course through her, and she cried out in pain, hand flying to her side, where blood was seeping through her shirt.

Hermione had been splinched.

The pain was white, blinding, awful. She'd never had this happen before. She felt hot tears stinging her eyes as her shaky hands tried to get her jacket off, but every movement hurt. Her teeth clenched and she bit back a cry of pain, turning it into a guttural sob, feeling the bile rising in her throat.

They let go quickly when Hermione leaned to the side and vomited. Once she had finished retching, Dean moved to take off her jacket and Sam gently tugged at her shirt, lifting it up to see the wound, Hermione's body shaking violently.

"Jesus Chris, what happened?" Dean asked.

"S-s-splinched," Hermione managed. She didn't have her dittany with her. She didn't expect to be apparating at all tonight, considering the boys were so against it, and this certainly wasn't going to be a very good plug. "I need – we have to – back to the apartment –"

"It's so far away," Sam said, a little panicky. "We won't get there in time, she's bleeding bad."

"We'll get there," said Dean, far calmer than his little brother. Hermione was feeling fainter and fainter – Sam's face was spinning, Dean's voice was dim.

"We need to leave before that ghost bitch turns up again."

"I need –" Hermione began, but she could hardly think, let alone speak. The brothers hesitated long enough for Hermione to say, "Dittany. Little bottle. In my – my medicine –" She couldn't speak after that, her voice failing her altogether.

She wasn't sure which one of them did it, but they tied a shirt around her middle to stop the bleeding and then Sam picked her up carefully, facing her wound away from his body, walking fast but not jostling her. Dean was already searching through his bag for something – Hermione was quite sure they were planning to steal a car. She would have told them it wasn't worth it, she was fine, but when she opened her mouth to speak, everything spun backwards and upside-down and she lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>When they got back to the apartment, Sam put Hermione down on the table and told Dean to find the dittany. It was lucky Hermione had told them what she needed, otherwise they would have had to stitch her up. Dean wasn't sure how many drops to put on, but when he began, her skin looked like it was burning, smoke rising from her bloody flesh, and Hermione's body went rigid on the table, contorting in pain.<p>

"A few more, Hermione, just a few more," Dean said, gritting his teeth. He'd never seen a wound quite so bad, and he'd seen a few. This was spiral, wide, and deep. It looked like somebody had drilled the flesh from her skin.

When he finished, Hermione was shaking, and they moved her to her bedroom, Sam lifting her again while Dean pulled back the covers, and then he took off her shoes and pulled the duvet over her shivering body.

It was only once she was healed, warm and rested did the brothers finally sit down and take a breather. Dean dragged an armchair into Hermione's room and collapsed into it, and Sam leaned against her vanity.

Dean sighed. "Witches. Far out."

"Yeah. No kidding."

Dean frowned. He hadn't actually thought about what had happened at all, until now. "She jumped off the bridge," he said slowly, "To grab me and – and magic me back up. Is that right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Talk about taking one for the team."

Dean blinked, trying to figure it all out. "So she threw herself off the Brooklyn Bridge and got a huge flesh wound because she was trying to save me?"

"Sounds about right," said Sam.

Dean slumped in the chair. "She is insane."

"She saved your life," said Sam. "She is my favourite person right now."

"She is my favourite person forever," said Dean jokingly, but he wished Hermione hadn't hurt herself quite so badly for his sake. He felt bad for her. Sighing, Dean said, "You go rest, I'll keep an eye on her."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, man. It's the least I can do."

* * *

><p>Dean watched Hermione for a good few hours, and he dozed off a few times, but he made himself a coffee and forced himself to stay up. He wanted to make sure she was okay when she woke. She deserved that much from him, seeing as she had nearly killed herself, throwing herself from a bridge for his sake.<p>

He was flicking through a magazine he had found on her bedside table when she shifted, a small groan coming from the back of her throat as she moved. Dean threw the magazine over his shoulder and stood, standing over her. "Hermione?" he asked, watching her closely.

Her eyes flickered and opened, and she took a moment to focus before she saw who it was. To Dean's surprise, she smiled tiredly and said, "Hey Dean."

"Hey yourself," he said, laughing with relief. "Jesus. You scared the crap out of me, witch."

"That's what I do best," she said with a slight cough as she tried to sit up, but Dean pushed her back down gently.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," he said, sitting on the bed beside her. "Can I get you anything? Water? More medicine?"

"I – I don't think so," she said, frowning. She glanced under the sheets, at her wound – or the place where it had been. "It looks fine. You – how did you know about the dittany?"

"You told us," said Dean. "Before you conked out."

"Oh," she said, before smiling again. "Well, thank you."

"Thank me? No, thank you," said Dean. "You saved me. I would have died."

"A bit of water never hurt anybody," she said, and Dean realised she was joking.

"You're horrible," he said, but his lips twitched into a half smile. "Seriously, though. Thank you. You saved me."

She glanced up at him with warm brown eyes and she replied, "That's what you do every day. It's about time somebody – did the same –" her eyes were slipping shut again, and Dean pulled her sheets back up again as she fell back to sleep. She probably wouldn't remember this when she woke up again.

Staring down at the witch, she looked so small and exhausted like this, and Dean didn't like it. He felt a strange sense of responsibility for her, which was odd, considering it was she who had hooked them into coming along. But it was his fault she had been hurt.

Dean shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He didn't like having feelings for people, particularly not girls. It was too much effort and he had long ago given up on ever having a real relationship. But Hermione had been around for a while and it was making him uncomfortable in a really good sort of way.

Getting up quickly, Dean went out to the couch and nudged Sam, and told him it was his turn to watch her.

* * *

><p><em>There are many things I would like to say to you but don't know how<br>I said maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me…_


	24. update from the author

Hey guys, I've been getting a lot of reviews and messages urging me to continue with this story and being very supportive and I appreciate that. I wish I could upload a new chapter right now, but I'm having to deal with a family crisis at the moment and I would appreciate if everyone could just be a little patient, and I will try my best to get a new chapter here as soon as possible.

Thanks for reading, and I hope to update soon

-sabrestar


End file.
